EVENSONG

The days are slowly drawing out,

there’s a subtle hint of change in the air,

the crocuses are pushing through in the square.

But the wind is still chill and the trees are still bare.

Spring will not come to my garden this year.

As evenings grow longer, mornings grow light,

the late April skies are gusty and bright,

the birds are nesting and the bees are in flight.

But the thorn has no fragrance and the lilac no flower.

Spring has not come to my garden this year.

Now the warmth of the day outlasts its glow,

the changing seasons’ march is slow.

the clouds reflect the moon on the cusp,

so I’ll light a candle in the gathering dusk.

Spring did not come to my garden this year.