Twenty-six whistles in
Well aware of bitter times ahead.
Even in the midst of winter snow,
Needing all the woodcraft he might know,
The young man has no fear or sense of dread.
Yet like us all, of course, he's running
So let the coming years to
him be kind,
In which, as good and bad both come and go,
Xerophytes will bloom, by deep springs
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.