The sun rises, the horizon a crimson flame–
red sky in morning, tonight comes the rain.
Yet still the robins sing, in tree branches lifting
skyward, boughs and birdsong, lifting,
shifting as the sun’s rays flame
the world in gold before the rain.
And in these hours, before the rain,
when eyes and voices are lifting,
down below the daffodils burst alive and flame–
and robins hop amidst the flame of flowers, lifting, winging, before the rain.
This is a tritina for Jane Dougherty’s Poetry Challenge. She asked us to choose three words from a poem by Francis Ledwidge. I chose flame, rain, and lifting. I might be having a having a hard time concentrating on forms, but I also think this is a difficult form—for me, at least.