Villanelle: Dubium

Above the chilled dirt a thin voice sings,
trilling hope and greeting dawn's pale light,
and buried heads doubt what joy day brings.

A glowing nimbus crowns the hill and flings
fresh visions outward, shows a bird in flight.
Above the chilled dirt a thin voice sings.

Echoing voices reverberate like drumming wings,
vibrant praises raised fold back the gloomy night,
and buried heads doubt what joy day brings.

Confidence is shaken, for her shining things
all faded and wilted just out of sight.
Above the chilled dirt a thin voice sings.

Whence comes glory? Is it found in kings
wrapped in crimson, or silver armored might?
And buried heads doubt what joy day brings.

A promise was made, and to it she clings:
that wrong will always be conquered by right.
Above the chilled dirt a thin voice sings,
and buried heads doubt what joy day brings.