The grass is growing green again,

as Spring returns, taking all of

Winter’s rot, all what Winter wrought: the lost things, the cold things,

the old things,

the dead things.

And lovely worms

come to help.

They bring the dead things

down,

down, 

down, where they can 

rest. Sleep.

Sleep with the bowels of Earth

and lovely worms.

Spring brings things, too: bright things, warm things,

new things,

young things.

They last for a long, long,

time. But none are eternal.

None. None. 

Winter changes Spring in the end, always, until

the grass grows green again. With Winter,

bright things are lost, warm things grow cold,

new things are old, young things 

die. And none remain

except

lovely worms.

They seek to help again.