One Shot Wed poem

A Magick

In the hedgerow
sparrows gather,
perch upon dead limbs.
A hazel’s wild tangle,
brittle and barren,
fills with song.

Coaxed by twit
and trill to flower
in an hour, soon long catkins
trail. By afternoon,
leaves shadow
the flitting throng.

Warm breeze
carries love calls,
flutters twig fingers
and sways slim boughs
as clustered hazelnuts grow
from leafy green husks.

At evening, wings rise,
fly to the far wood.
In silence the foliage
turns yellow
and falls.

The tree stands
bereft as before.