At the turn of the year

At the turn of the year

Soon the first petals
           on the cherry
soon the first leaves
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
           of the first fruit

John Lyons


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