Refusal

You feel yourself slowly dying
in a flurry of color,
bright, admired from afar,
a victim of seasons and age,
of wind and storms,
of abandonment,
confusion,
armed only
with some mad belief
that there is life
beyond this cold season,
that somewhere,
unseen,
spring lies waiting,
even for you.

About this poem

It is a tough time in life for me right now. But I believe in seasons.

The picture was taken in nearby Rupert, Vermont.

Tom