THE SEASONS

there is a time
to let the old leaves
fall away
to let the sap
drain back
into my roots

a time
when I can sense
new growing
the sap rising
once again
the first green shoots
snowdrops by the stream

a time
when in full glory
of the length of days
I can be open
sunshine and shower
the wild roses
the tide in-flowing
the endless choreography
of the fulmars
and the jewelled clamour
of the machair

a time
for action and enterprise
gathering in
watching the storm
protecting
the rich, vulnerable
essential harvest

23rd March 1990 (written on my Mother's birthday)

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