Because You Can't Have One Without the Other

(I apologize to you who read, sometimes before I've found some editing flaws I missed previously...These poems generally get penned and posted amidst MUCH more than merely writing) Wow! going from 23C yesterday to 6C this morning gets one's attention!There's no denying it: another garden-year is drawing to a close! But the flowers are not going to fade without a fight! They've shrugged off a few frosty kisses already! Maple trees toss their fiery tresses, as if daring Father Time!He just smiles because he knows who always wins in the end. October's to-do list is bittersweet!-cut back or pull out spent glory.-Harvest final fare-Dig out flower bulbs that can't withstand winter-brr!-plant flower bulbs for spring tulips etc.-Collect seeds for gardens not planted yet-Tuck leaf-duvets over slumbering flowerbeds-Plan for next year's growing season/gardens The folding always follows the holding💞 Sometimes I tend to rue the shadows of longing’s despairForgetting that it is the sun that puts the shadows thereHow quick the readiness of thorns beneath love’s lovely roseCan prick the headiness of holding with soft curtain closeThe hellos that fill hugs/mugs with happiness ignites the knellThat trembles in the offing that assembles fond farewellThe wind that woos the lover to the darling of his heartIs the same wind that hovers, to dearly draw them apart Oh look! The baby smiles and coos and sits, walks, runs, then fliesTime’s book full of spent centuries still takes love by surpriseThus, I cannot afford to stand too long with mournful stareTo gaze upon a world that fell to pirates of the airWhere waves that roll across the shore and thrill children at playAre followed by the waves that wash their sandcastles awayAnd the breath-taking beauty of life’s garden in full wreathThe prelude to the duty of the grave that lies beneath Sometimes, I tend to rue the letting go of seasons felledUntil I look back, humbly glad for all I had and heldSometimes, I tend to rue the rending ache for seasons spentUntil, with awe I thank God for the loveliness He lent © Janet Martin Sometimes, I tend to rue the letting go of seasons felledUntil, with awe I thank God for the loveliness I held...