Composed at a time when Elson knew her store of new years had run out, the poem reverberates with a love of life larger than her own existence.
Returning, like the Earth
To the same point in space
We go softly to the comfort of destruction
And consume in flames
A school of fish
A pair of hens
A mountain poplar with its moss
A shiver of sparks sweeps round
The dark shoulder of the Earth
Frisson of recognition
Preparation for another voyage
And our own gentle bubbles
Float curious and mute
Towards the black lake
Boiling with light
Towards the sharp night whistling with sound
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