In winter, my Northern garden
Languishes, ragged and shabby,
Unlovely, decaying, and
Uncomfortably aware she’s grown old.
The remains of Summer’s glory beckons,
Begging to be told she is still beautiful,
Still young and fascinating,
Still the object of desire.
Ever the gallant gentleman,
Winter obliges, and with a kiss
Ice crystals decorate each twig and branch
Gracing her with radiant beauty.
Ruby-red barberries set against crystalline diamonds,
Ice catching the light, scattering it.
Jewels decorating decrepit limbs,
Dazzled, we bow to her wondrous splendor.
Beneath the litter of leaves dead and brown,
A new Spring waits,
Lurking in the wings, biding her time,
Politely allowing the old dame one last encore.
Winter in the Northern Garden © Connie J. Jasperson 2017
Ice Crystal on Barberry, By Sahehco (Own work) [CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons
Beneath a welter of thorns
Lies the buds that wilt not grow
Awaiting the greenest of thumbs
Which I do not have and never shall.
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