Season of Flowers

The coming and going of flowers.

“I fare the well,” the lamenting flower cries,
As cold winter snarls, and warm summer dies.

Her petals have all withered
From this valley chilling venom;
The curse of a Devil
That falls down from Heaven.

It smothers these hills,
A crude blanket of white,
That lingers for days
And many long nights.

Yet under this quilt
Of pain without guilt,
She waits for the song
Of the warm season bird;
A charming old hymn
So delightfully heard.

“Welcome, dear friends,” is the young daughters praise,
As warm summer rises, and cold winter decays.