As the moon casts its ethereal light
she reaches her arms towards heaven,
and gazes at the stars in the clear evening sky.
Always aware that her abundance is transitory.
The wind caresses her limbs
and her leaves flutter like feathers
on birds’ wings.
Not ready to relinquish
she holds on,
but she has to prepare,
soon she will be exposed and bare.
Her colours will change
and she will have to let go.
Roses wait to be beheaded
their petals fallen to the ground.
She feels no affinity with them,
but the pink and purple petalled fuchsias
still display their fairy skirts.
Like her they too hold on.
Rain has painted the fences,
and its vibrations have brought
earthworms to the surface.
Their replica, excreted bodies
cover the grass,
left behind as they move forward.
She finds it hard to do the same.
Her body stands sentry still
in the muddy earth,
and she longs for spring.