A broad besom

The birds were on form this morning
But suddenly flew away
The wind dropped
The songs stopped
All became still
Just another peaceful
Sunday

The greyest of skies
I see through her eyes
the solitary witch
Holds my gaze
I love her more so
Than she will ever know
And I swear this is no
Passing phase

And light apparently
Burst exponentially
Onto the scene through the haze
And a fresh paradigm
Created the time
Which is more than just
One of those days