The empty stems of the fennel

Under umbrella heads of raindrops

Are perches for the waiting birds

The grey green sage leaves

Glow crystal white in the frost

Moss grows where the branch

Leaves the trunk of the bonsai

Its ruddy leaves falling

Amongst the yellowing leaves

A single crimson rose bud perishes

Yellow leaves have fallen from the dogwood

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And then, suddenly, it was calm - the morning wind which threw

rain hard against the window panes and sent beech leaves rushing

across the grass to pile gold-brown against all that the borders grew,

all slowly dulling their greens to wet, muted browns, brushing

the soil as their leaves curl and droop - vibrant Spring-strength gone,

fading sadly.

                         The wind ...

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