In The Garden

Upon Spring's birth, Winter's death.
Seeds and eggs and babes abound.
At last we smell Earth's heaving breath;
a fragrance tilled from from 'neath the ground.

Seeds and eggs and babes abound.
Passively, they bide their time
a fragrance tilled from 'neath the ground
drink in the fruit of heady wine.

Passively, they bide their time.
They labor to reach the highest clouds.
Drink in the fruit of heady wine
as Summer draws in the crowds.

They labor to reach the highest clouds
Dead heat begins to wane and chill
as Summer draws in the crowds
and ushers Autumn over the hill.

Dead heat begins to wane and chill
as cool Winter winds begin
and ushers Autumn over the hill
Then Spring is born again.

©2008 Dawn Slanker

Dawn Slanker

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-garden-failed-pantoum/