by J S Coe
‘Come spring flowers, grow
And push through sodden earth just sewn!’
Says the gently helping rain,
Taking April captive.
‘Come spring rain, fall down!
Soak slowly through my mudden shroud!’
Says the dormant colour, waiting to
See, should one day’s sun rise lone,
Unblocked by winter’s old, dark tone,
The wakening seedlings will, bathing bright,
Prepare to fight.
Wirey arms will find strong hands
And bodies swell ‘to insect stairs.
Then on their well-splayed heads and hairs,
Scooping golden stores, they take,
And fly away unhindered, smalling, humming
Faintly through the warm haze of pleasant June,
Great blooms feed feasting eyes, too.
Flora’s fireworks staying glow impresses, still,
Swaying little in the kind breeze
Patrolling the borders.
Then months fade into mystery,
As time somehow steals speed and stealth,
And summer’s gone ‘fore winter’s set;
Stuck in no-man’s-land.
Bravely does autumn fight,
But weakened by the freeze and fright,
It forfeits spent and injured ground to frost -
The final blow.
Cold not wanted has been beckoned
By the subtle beacon of a fading light,
Sky’s signal to come, end this year,
The battle lost, but not the story.
Rhymes of life live on, and wars for green glory
Rage and cycle, trophies held by seasons all, passed here and there,
In nature’s war fair.
Last updated May 28, 2013