Dog Latitude §27

There is a junction between
the secret and the truth.
First, there is a waiting,
tightness, a clenching. Then
one morning a cap snaps
like a cartridge and light
floods in. The hawthorn booms
like a new galaxy. Bluebells
are ringing higher than birdsong.
Leaves unfold and face up
they drink the sun. And you run
April crazy amongst the packed
multitude of the rape plants,
their bright chemical yellow heads
raised high, proud as an army
that has met no resistance.
And the peace of abundance
has broken out and green
is the blood signature under blue.