Winter Fruit

The empty canes of raspberries hang low Red maple leaves are mashed up in the mud Nature seems to hover by death’s door Animals and humans drained as whores No feeling ,no green sap,no flowing blood The crackling canes of raspberries hang low What can we say un-cliched, metaphored? At dawn the sun will burn despite the Flood Nature did not force us through death’s door Can the death of God mean this and more, Though love and hate are fractured, life is good? The chuckling canes the berries sang below Can a life with heart not be restored? End retaliation, understand Nature did not wave us through the door At the edge of Europe are no hordes Jesus is more small than any bud The crackling canes stored laughter in their cores The remnants of the foxgloves in the wood Wave politely . even seem to nod The raspberry canes, the honesty know more Nature ,light and darkness, affect stored