Spring Heat

In the cool mornings
The sun lingers behind hills,
Then dawdles up the street trees

Until the noon bake

And the three o'clock burn.
But it doesn't hold.

Evening dispels the heat
For Spring reigns now.
And even Summer's coup

Cannot stop Autumn's coming.

So I do not spurn spring heat.

His power is weak.
His oppression is light

Checked by the merciful nights

Like the chill of an empty tomb.

By that power we are able

To spurn any pain 

For its reign

Does not consume 

In light of the coming moon,

That everlasting relief

To all searing heat and wounding grief.

More on nature and loss: My Son Decapitated My Iris