Resplendent love but not
Resplendent mine, if shifts
From the North to colder
Southern climes.
In passing resplendent but
Not where the sun does
Shine, I pass through
Numerous grasses kind.
Who is to determine where
I should next move? To
Wear thin the burrow of
This next groove.
In sight of sparrows flight
I know I shall weep
For how I resent flight
Whilst I do creep.
Have I not learnt from
Past unmoved that in
This present I should remove
From company with which I share
The sparrow’s scorn,
The sparrow’s glare.
Sam Huddlestone 