Under
The
Darkened
Disc
Of
The
Moon,
Spring
Spirits
Frolic
And
Cavort,
Awake
In
Their
Sport.
Leave
Your
Bed
To
See
Them
Play,
To
Hear
The
Songs
They
Give
Away,
And
Find
Where
Scattered
Promises
Lay,
Cast
Forgotten
In
New
Grass.
Catch
Their
Dreams
As
They
Pass,
Cloaked
In
Green’s
First
Gold,
And
Find
A
Wish
In
An
Upturned
Dish.
Then
Sleep,
Magic
Beneath
Your
Pillow,
In
A
Wand
Of
Willow.