Seeing Through the Frost

So, I walk within my garden; it is cold; and I am chilled!

I’ve still earth, but seek a memory of the birds’ last summer trill.

I’ve an old tree standing there.  Will I once more see it leaf?

The surrounding ground seems spent; I am filled with winter’s grief.


I suppose should I just wander past, and clean the pathways here,

I could wake one morn to Spring!   The sun would melt away my fear.

You have left me but a plot of land.  What have I to gain from toil?

It’s then I grasp your guiding words:   what I sow will grace the soil!