Count Not

December's air awakens
a show of snowy scene.
Way above flowers, hidden
bountiful leaves evergreen.

The growth above high
semblance of magnificence.
Tiny buds, vivify
continual florescence.

Days roll by in silence
changes visibly seen
Sight and taste, indulgence
fruits rich and green.










But what of beauty array
then sadness befall.
When young fruit displays
droop, weaken, and fall.

We begin to dream
what of stunningly bright.
Then challenged, downstream,
darkness loom, not light.

Dread the failures yet
we often fail to see.
The hanging yield left
will grow, continue to be.










Hope perish not
this is a certainty.
There's growth, not rot
and accept reality.

Scattered fruits thereupon
like dreams, not all will fail.
Count not what was gone
live life, blaze a trail.