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.