Annum

Annum

Land clutched in the grip of misery,
nothing moves, a desert of cold.
Grey sky shedding a mournful light,
nothing grows, all is old.

The moon at night casts a glitter,
the frosty grass a thousand facets.
Earth is chill, unmoving and dead,
winter takes its toll, no regrets.

But the end is nigh, the sun will come,
to warm our hearts, the land.
The day shall return once more,
night be banished by nature’s hand.

Spring is coming, a new start,
grass, birds and flowers return.
Once again, the world will bloom,
winter’s grip of death be spurned.

Then, after spring has been and gone,
summer shall come and with it heat.
The earth will blister, and boil,
sun’s fury an inferno complete.

Then, long for winter we shall,
an irony, but a truth also.
From freezer to oven,
we inevitably go.

Then autumn, blessed at last,
so long, long we’ve waited!
But it was worth it,
for by heat we are sated.

The leaves turn golden,
clouds spring forth in heaven.
The year has ended, once more,
from snow, to sun, to ice again.

Guy Stimpson, 6th March 2007