This is the spark that sets seed
A jubilant setting free
A sunset beyond every sea
With a new day the grain that grows.
And if each sign these clouds do point
Expose a pasture fit for rose
Should a foot that heals the earth
Lay thin dust that bitter burns?
Nay, each dusk a seat be found
To hold each glass, a little worn
A ritual many should be warmed
At last, sweet moon, a gray cocoon.