At the turn of the year
Soon the first petals
on the cherry
soon the first leaves
springing
from the buds
soon the new year
with all its opportunity
for us never to repeat
the old errors
never to relinquish
the love of which
we never tire
that never
grows old
The winter has its special
frosty silence
the crisp sound
of birdsong
the streets at times
glazed with ice
Warmth is a thing
of the heart
no man no woman
can live
without love :
soon the first petals
harbingers
of the first fruit
John Lyons