"Star-Graced Moss"
Dedicated to the Memory of Miles
The barren trees
bear life's green glow,
so brightly on
a mild winter day.
Limbs void of leaves
over muddy wilted snow,
though life seems gone,
a subtle pulse does ray.
How green does the fervent moss
grow upon the northern quarter,
on live wood or a dead cross,
on hard stones and ancient mortar.
Always drawn towards the North,
to the central star's fixed shine
from the dark sky's eternal worth,
girdled by the great green line.
Oh glowing moss so lovely bright
amidst the dead grey day,
like the beetle in the night,
Thou carriest dawn upon thy way.