SOME SECRET GARDEN

  

To us the winter’s end is signified

By Hylas croaking from the budding trees,

Their song like sleigh bells, after having climbed

From hibernation underneath the leaves

And broken branches toward the sunny heights,

Their vocal sacs swelled up with evening air.

Their chorus chants of such romantic nights

As you and I remember, when our care

Was for some secret garden and embrace,

Where what we took to be our hearts and minds

Succumbed to Nature and pursued a trace

Of fleeting passion as we pulsed through time.

We dreamed it in the ice of our repose,

Our sleigh bells frozen underneath the snow.