The earth turns
In incremental light.

The day expands
In millimetre shoots,

A green touch
Like lovers’ skin

Mirroring pale light
And new sun contours.

Each bulb nestles
In the mother’s pulse,

Follows exact
Circadian match:

The beautiful dance
Of closest partners.

Like all living things
In sweet, earthy bondage,

Not one strays
Nor splits disobedient

From irrefutable law
And physical fact

Of freedom
To be absolved,

And to shadow
First, ethereal footsteps.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016