January flower pots

The empty pots stand quietly in the sun

They have no value but to naked worms

Yet in the earth the labour has begun

And deeper in the ground, the earth still burns.

The bulbs we buried looked as if they’d died.

Yet in their Resurrection,they will live

We can see how they boldly they defy

They have their secret treasure, they will give.

In the peaceful darkness of their clay.

Life and death are mingled by the heat.

The sun itself more distant has to pay

Deep down in the earth, a heart still beats.

What looks like death above deceives out minds.

Imagination’s cleverly disguised.

Like the message in between the lines

We must learn again to be surprised.

The seers eyes relaxed attend the deep.

We feel the warmth as all that’s hidden sleeps

I welcome comments and criticism

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