Do Not Mourn

Do not mourn your loss of fragrance,

do not wish your petals back;

leave off grieving for last summer

as the  winter world goes black.

Take these hours to rest your branches,

let your roots sink deep in soil;

last year’s growth sets up potential

for next summer’s greensome toil.

Cry Me a River

Cry me a river,

weep me a stream,

sob me a rivulet

on autumn-clad dream.

Mourn me a pretty brook

dappled with rain,

so I will know I can

let go of this pain.