A storm of white petals,
Buds throwing open baby fistsInto hands of broad flowers.
Red roses running upward,
Clambering to the clutches of lifeSoaked in crimson.
Rabbles of tattered leaves
Holding golden flimsy hopes
Against the tramplingsInto the pits and gullies.
Hoarfrost and silence:
Only the muffling
Of winds dark and lonesome—Great lullabies to the long sleepers.