a bitter frost
strikes through the core
of this earthly playground.
petals, frostbitten, fall to the ground
where they lie amongst the leaves
of that last fall.
they take far too long to rot,
and they prevent the new spring
from becoming;
the grass, sunless and limp;
the buds on the trees
unable to emerge.
but your warm, nurturing light,
and soothing rainfall,
and gentle touch of the breeze
might just clear the ground,
and let the world grow again.
-m.m.