A Skylark

The Skylark
Suddenly above the fields you’re pouring
Pure joy in a shower of bubbles,
Lacing the spring with the blue thread of summer.
You’re the warmth of the sun in a song.
 
You’re light spun to a fine filament;
Sun on a spider-thread –
That delicate.
 
You’re the lift and balance the soul feels,
The terrible, tremulous, uncertain thrill of it –
You’re all the music the heart needs,
Full of its sudden fall, silent fields.
 
Katrina Porteous