
Thank you--and best wishes, Michael!

Past we can leave as leaving we assure
Green love can grow as icy cold endure.

Eye me--you’ll find I’ve changed and so we’re free:
Green maid, green man, two eyes for you and me.

You are most welcome, Michael.

Drums do we hear, but can we mark the horn?
One signals martial dark, one fires reborn.

So raise your glass, scythe, bow and arrows two:
Your time’s for love, yet death will have his due.

Yet fall we must as downward spirals time,
Stone gyres surpliced in cold eternal rhyme.