Oh how the days pass and the green
Grass rises far and wide almost as dramatic as the sky
Where large, creeping trees covered in soft bark
Are home to a family of larks
That live in a nest where sunshine drips
And the days all seem perfectly lovely

Yet sometimes they might not be so lovely
When reminders of that green
And black and gray time when drips
Of red cried out of the sky
And dead was all but some terribly lucky larks
Who could still land on the bark

That was the type of bark
That wasn’t yet spoiled, that was still lovely
And pure and not stained so the larks
Could land and not become green
Or the colors of the blood and ash sky
That all seemed to drip

So much, to drip
Onto so much of the bark
And poison so much of the sky
And make everything so less lovely
And so much less green
With the green that was nice for larks

Yet not just for larks
Yet for other elegant sorts of creatures who dripped
Out of the sky and the grass that was green
And the most wonderful bark
And everything that was so lovely
Like the blue sky

And the sometimes gray sky
That made the larks
Sing songs so very lovely
They seemed to drip
With the creamy shades of that bark
And that green

But once again, now, the sky is blue and sunshine drips
Onto the larks and onto the bark
And the oh so lovely existence of everything green