spring

Life grew and shrank and sharpened
as time passed, and he could not say
when the evening had fallen, or if those
lingering lights truly were the stars
he had known, or even if the moon
would ever reveal its beauty to him again.

For time can be cruel in its selfish
mockery of man’s hopes and needs,
and in the barest moment of calm,
voices emerge once more demanding
his attention as the moon drapes herself
in darkening clouds this night as well.

He knew this had to be so. He knew
there must be a summer of warmth
and playful abandon, and an autumn
of tearful regrets, and a winter
of most urgent and painful longing.

But the snows melted and night fell,
and he opened his doors again to find
his beautiful moon smiling down
on him, for Spring will always come
to those whose honest…