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My birthday's eve, bright sunlight and clear skies,

A morning shopping for the plastic cups,

Bowls and crisps and nuts.  No need for pies

On days like this as  spring time gently ups

The anti towards next weeks Jack-in-the-Green,

And the release of summer, though he must die

That crops might rise, birds mate and the lean

Winter months be just a memory.

How different from that day of endless grief

When you walked out to face a vile death,

Spat upon, derided, in belief

That what you did had meaning, and the Breath

Of Life, which freely fills my soul today,

Died in you, so I won't have to pay.

Brian Hick 29.4.13

©Sally Hick 30.4.25