The ants upon my rowan tree had faith

The bees   are humming by the garden gate
The  dampness  makes the leaves  more green , more rich
As summer comes too early and too late

The ants upon my rowan tree  had faith
Busily they ran,  as if bewitched
The bees   are humming by the garden gate

The rowan tree has died, leaves not a trace
When it was felled, it left an empty pitch
Come  oh  wild flowers, leave no summer base

I watch  more ants, they seem to have no face
The rain leaves puddles in the empty ditch
The bees    will hover by the garden gate

The ants will help  their wounded  under threat
But having not a doctor, they’re  not stitched
Will summer come before it is too late?

From this world, we must try  not to flinch
When we leave it will be with a wrench
The bees   are humming by the garden gate
As summer comes too early by mistake

 

 

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