A Time For Snowdrops
A Time For Snowdrops.
The snow spoke words of winter and it sang of passing time,
The mundane and the mystic of the sullen and sublime,
It whispered untold wonders and it shouted stunted verse,
It bade the time of brilliance and it welcomed in the curse.
We walked with youthful pleasure as we stumbled into age,
We prattled out our simple lines upon a wondrous stage,
God knows we tried to change things but the scenery was set,
With all our sainted reason just a reason for regret.
We can’t hold to example for examples have no worth,
We cling to each experience that shadowed us from birth,
The hours we reckoned potent we negate with every day,
And hoard our little treasures just to throw them all away.
The snow clung to the hedgerow and it edged the brighter green,
The light picked out the warren telling where the fox had been,
The rooks that circled skyward have declared the ancient tryst,
Of meadow, moor and winding sheet of majesty and mist.
I wondered as I view it all what splendours lay is store,
What hides as winter shoots the bolt and fastens hard the door,
Is spring just waiting to surprise and break the iron chain,
And set my spirit soaring high as seasons powers wane.
Today I touched a snowdrop, proud perfection in the dew,
A thing of insignificance you could crush beneath the shoe,
But like a lovers promise that has made my soul content,
No coin of contemplation could be better earned or spent.
I looked and looked with wonder looking longer than I should,
Spring flowers in a car-park forcing through the city mud,
Just splattered things, uncared for but they sanctified the earth,
Like diamonds in a littered space confirming greater worth.
And so I speak of promise of the needle sharp and bright,
Of winter and of springtime, summer sun and autumn light,
Of wind and rain and hailstones of the dew and of the mist,
A symphony of seasons with an ever changing list.
Then so when cold surrounds me and I compass my despair,
It’s something insignificant that gives me cause to care,
Surrounding me with sentiments the season bids me hide,
The common commonality that’s Mother Nature’s pride.
So snowdrops in a car park and the warren by the hedge,
The heather on the moorland and the bracken and the sedge,
And once again contented that I’m part of gods great plan,
Not harmed or helped or hindered by the marvels made by man.