Under grey clouds in her garden
Her briny pond still larger grew.
To cacophony turned her wren
And her white rabbit into shrew.

The passing seasons, she did not heed
For wintry dusk was all she knew.
But then in that throng of ****
A little rose bud sprang into view

Its petals white, then pink, then red
But she had eyes for only its thorn
Not water, but lopper she turned instead
And nipped the blossom ere it was born

Which fell, on weeds that ne'er seek pardon
As chopping blocks to winter buds they mew
Under grey clouds in her garden
Her briny pond still larger grew