four seasons
passed as along
the path they
walk upon the
other side the
land has changed
winter frost and
a mud grey world
into flowering
begonia and in
the fields the
apples fall to
lie untended and
as the angelus tolls
she holds his hand
and against his
thigh her body
lies in trust and
passion as along
the river slow
and low a crane
flies south and
slowly slowly
letting go the
burden of winter
the future of a past