The garden goes to rest, so weary
Green Life dormant, tranced by spell
Of glacial Winter, damp and dreary.
Rootlets dream of golden days,
Rain trickling down the pores of earth,
Buds sleep soft in frozen slumber,
Biding strength til their rebirth.
Demeter's hoary breath to mourn
Persephones loss to Hades forewarns,
The time of death, the time of ice,
Has come by now to poach the price,
Of life grown in warm Summer's day,
Vital and verdant put away,
By Fall the stocks of sugars stored,
To yield in Spring their sweet reward.
Like the garden, stills the gardener,
Waiting for the time of bloom,
Aching bones and crying sinew,
Wallowing in depths of gloom.
Gardener's also dream of sunshine,
Warm days, wet springs, gentle mist,
Serves to keep the growers lifeline,
Thoughts of days of Summer's bliss.
Hermes fly with rapid haste
To fetch Spring's maiden for embrace,
The time of growth, the time of life,
Must surely come to ease the strife,
Of frozen Winter, running down,
The sands of Time revolving round,
March the lion, April's tears,
Come May, come June, come back this year.
Deep in ground, where Cold Ones dwell,
The garden waits, and rests and sleeps,
Buds and tendrils wait to swell,
And grow and bloom and ever leap.
