Ideas were sparring
Words the shields, and the swords.
In slow steps, sometimes quicker
Father and son were at odds.
We stood breathless and speechless
Eyes were wide, minds were still.
Molten gold poured from the heavens
Dancing on ripples, kissing the hill.
Winter was bidding her silent farewell
Dry leaves were few and sparse.
O’dear spring! Are you here?
Are you this cheer, this warmth within us.