Through the year
Snow on the blossom
The fruit that will never be
Is food for my eyes
Gardener sees shoots
But in his mind's eye is a
Juicy crop of fruits
Waft in my window
You blossom scents of springtime
The poor man's pot-pourri.
The brighter sun shows
All the grime on my windows
You know what follows
Fall now you shadows
Kiss the whispering silk gown
Too short summer night
The hand of Autumn
Tapping at my windowpane
Spatter of the rain
Rain soaked sodden ground
Fields have turned to fjords around
Down pours drumming sound