The air pungent
the earth readies for slumber of winter
there is death all around
each leaf and flower a reminder
that all must come to an end
Where does hope lie?
Where does one go with the torment of grief
The agony of loss
The inability to change the course of events.
The winter only last for a time
here we do not stay.
For to, means destruction
But, what lies beneath the earth is not idle
Very roots of the trees ready to burst at
releasing life bound through winters rest
Only shielding it from view
That which we can not see