Offspring

Rarely the birds have been heard singing these days
About the fence. Those remaining stood quiet and
Hesitated to move, folded wings in advance
At the sight of the besieging forces I disapprove of
Becoming nearer and nearer of their site.

Lonely in a corner, the girl mourns late father,
A newly lifeless old man who left her
Nights ago. She is, without birds and leaves,
Unwilling to admit his ultimate march.

Restoring itself gradually, constant Nature
In its inconsistency brings hope back, though
Potentially alive landscapes remind her of death.

Grave is mortality for winter follows the fall
And the fallen summer in his grave waits for your spring.