the leafless tree branches.
clouds drift in the pale sky
and the deer leave footprints
in the snow
and all flowers fade,
so, throw the dead flowers
across my grave
and with time
winter's wounds will heal
so spring can follow
when the river sheds its skin of ice
and the deer footprints turn to mud
and the earth forgets the cold.
sunlight kisses, the flowers sigh,
tulips bruised red,
for-get-me nots whisper,
daffodils linger.
the sunrise whispers anew
and trembling in sunlight
the green leaves wave
as the wind dances with newborn flowers
that for tell of the Grace.
O, my wild garden.
no more death please, for a little while