And without you anyway, the birds are silent


 

My Separation from you has felt just like winter and everything has been as barren as in December –

And yet the time we’ve been apart was actually summer,  then fall,  the harvest-time when nature gives birth to crops planted in the Spring

My Spring as dead as a dead Mother,  the season gone even while crops planted remained,  my Spring like a woman giving birth to a stillborn child

after her husband’s death do these abundant fruits of nature seem as hopeless orphans to me  because Summer and  Summer’s pleasures all depended on you..

and without you  anyway, even  the birds  are  silent.

Or,  if they sing,  their song’s  so  dismal  that  the leaves grow pale with fear,  dreading the fact that Winter’s almost here  and you  are  nowhere  near.

 

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