The spell is broken.

The bewitching wand turns

To wood.

 Paralysed slumber

Of years lifts an eyelid

And sees into the dark subterfuge.

There is a hint of spring in December.

A breach in the overcast

Reveals a newborn David,

Firing sure slingshot

Into Goliath’s heart.

Hope seems no longer in vain.

The Republic breathes again.