Fireflies return to my chest 
When I am no longer crowded
And cluttered to my scalp 
With the ear-splitting day 

A clear pelting rain 
Washes out the year’s ashes, 
Pushing ruin downriver
Through a delta of scars 

A quake rattles my spine, 
Letting pale orchids climb
As human snarls subside  
 A few paces from silence 

Spring’s green and gold
Is restored in my marrow 
In the fragile hours 
Before a chorus of sorrows