Pry apart the blossoms with a crowbar
Harvest the nectar with a snowplow
Dust moist earth,
Speckle it yellow with a trail of pollen
And store precious sustenance in your honeycomb
To feed your lady.
When wintertime arrives with salty snow,
Spilled orange tea scents the bare branches
In which you hide.
Ravaged trees are smote with white powder
And they kiss life forlornly goodbye.
Life waxes and wanes with countless dawns
Until steadfast soldiers herald the coming of sunlight
With phosphorescent green leaves
They drown in its glory, saluting your lady as she emerges
Glorious, from her slumber
And gracefully flies to young Buckthorn
And you begin construction for next winter.