Even the evergreens
look faded
before the shortest day is seen.
The fruit trees look like they've barely
ever glimpsed a sunny beam;
the branches bare suggest
they can't go on without the leaves,
and the robin's grubby breast
needs a good old-fashioned clean.
Everywhere everything's got tougher with the cold;
the rabbits stare the cat down,
they've time to settle scores.
The heron in the clouds
blends its grey into the woe,
the flowers' stalks are rotten,
they've given up the ghost.
And all colour is forgotten
save for one unlearned rose.
Days stretch, shoots reach,
light drenches, life seeds,
time turns, things change,
a rose learns when to fade.
Flowers die just to strengthen
days darken just to lengthen.
Nature sleeps, insulates,
digs down deep to reinstate.
All energy returns within,
and the world still spins, still spins, still spins.
