With snow on the horizon,
The green upon the trees will dwindle.
Tragic winter as its symbol,
The heart goes still and quiet.
The summer took its toll,
And though the sun was warm and kind,
The heart must keep in mind
The deep, impending cold.
The glucose of the shrubbery,
That once was gnawed upon in plenty,
Is red, and brown, and empty,
As the tale of times so lovely.
But the heart shall never starve.
Even as the snow and hail
Freeze and thaw and make it frail,
In its quest to lay its love.
This heart must lull and rest in brief
From the New Year until March,
When it will wake and seek its starch,
And find new sights to seek.
This hibernation hurts,
One cannot avoid that truth,
But the heart is in its youth,
And from this sleep it will emerge.
