At this time of year, when one’s eye
Catches a glimpse amid the bare branches
Of tiniest buds glinting tips of green
One has to ask how after all this time
Has passed, what amounts to a primal
Creation is possible, how in this old
Universe, where everything is in a state
Of decay, the moon, Mars, the planets,
Worse off for wear, there can be the concept
Of renewal in the form of something
As gentle as the forms of life on earth.
In fact, in the wider universe, renewal is
Solely in the formation of stars, extreme
In the event, where all is heat and light,
And combinations occur between the atoms
Undreamed off, and when these drift in space
They agglomerate into still-born spheres of
Fixed state, barren and desolate – all except
The earth, where renewal is achieved in
The process of life, on a scale so tender
It baffles the logic of stellar creation or
Proves life is the force the stars dream of.
