Prudence in Springtime

Autumn has ever held a sadness:
A ‘memento mori’, abstract and distant;
It brings first frost, drawing darkness,
Skeletons of leaves raked into mass graves;
And now the god in whom neither of us believes
Is going to take you away.

Winter’s charm is ever elusive:
December’s cold, drear promise of nothing
Seeps into the bones of January,
Cruel, hard January: merciless leech,
Drained of colour and stranger to warmth;
And now you are gone, whether I believe it or not.

Yet spring does ever follow winter:
Teeming and exuberant,
Rainbowed and brave and unstoppable,
Pushing its new, clean fingers up through
Winter’s oppressive excrement.
And while grief has held you dormant
In our wintered hearts,
Spring will resurrect you in miraculous bloom:
Vital and laughing in our most beloved memories.
And we will celebrate your life, dear friend,
Your life so well lived.

Liz