Flutters of canary
Upon the soft dewy blades,
Making dry earth's tears of mourning.
A new day commences,
Howbeit yearning to return to slumber
Afore the noonday sun illumines the sky,
Searing eyes blind and hearts dry.
Oh, do I not wish to re-embark on this onerous journey
Of pruning, sowing, and burgeoning.
Allow me to unfurl my roots and meld with the loam,
So I may emerge a creation of new.