The darkness at the heart of any shrub
A home for little birds in cold and damp
The leaves of olive, gold and green were shed
The darkness is the heart of any shrub
No longer hid by summers of burnt red
Flames in June, the loss in winter’s bed
Through the window I see my lit lamp
Darkness makes the heart of any shrub
Safe for little birds in cold and damp
Darkness is the heart
Published
How my heart sings 