New poem: "March 13, 2023"

 

March 13, 2023

 

Looking out my window,

I saw fresh snow, and I heard

Winter whispering, “Please

don’t let me go.”

 

But every season must come

to an end, only to be born

again; thus deems Nature with

every living thing.

 

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall

here today, gone tomorrow;

an endless panoply of being

and becoming; —

 

But what’s it all for?