When the Snow Comes
When the Snow comes.
the catkins lilt, sway in a long prediction
to soon !
Mothers clock, gets it wrong;
It actually is non fiction
Now pinned! escape is futile
destined!
Snowflake blades cut a frugal slash
It actually is so crucial:
Time, the sway moves to being frantic,
Its late!
a lean becomes a fall, a grounding
now its very erratic!
On the shoulder its talon grips;
an ending?
it deepens its arrival, no decline!
Soothing now, its eclipse.
Time, its final fall, Catkins must seed
a re-birth!
all that had been,on a simple tree;
now guaranteed to succeed!
And what of the coming Snow?
that came!
the bending twist, of stress on limbs,
left in the now Sun, to outgrow.
Copyright © John Lusardi | Year Posted 2023
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