The Turn of the Seasons
My thoughts begin with water in the rill
Full-ferned and moss-muddlied. there sits
A crow on the topmost level of
A bowing birch. above it still the waning moon
Silver-sailing in a mourning sky.
*
The magi of mushrooms and
Pale greeness of lichen and I am
Mind-spinning at the turn of the seasons
There a gathering of starlings
Sitting slanted on an earthen roof and
*
Wood pigeons murmuring a pied -melody
Where trees scarlet and leaves bud
The turning prowls through my memories
Sometimes there are assembling hours
And heaven beckons. sometimes a glimpse
*
Of seedful poppies in strawberry beds
Scattering feral banks on fecund land.
*
Here are the daffodils to give joy and bring hope.
We can but believe.
Hope remains.
Be kind.
