Ignis Fatuus
The storm that owned the sky last night
Stains it still, with scattered clouds
Throwing shadows down to ground
And coating all in bruiséd light
Till every living thing around
No longer seems to gleam so bright
The muted colours of the trees
Are greys and browns and not-so-greens
Fragment-leaves flow here and there
Half-snapped branches hang like hair
And apples, smashed to smithereens
Spread red guts in liquid smears
She strides, restless, inside the grove
Worried. Checking every trunk
For breaks. Finding them broke, she grows
Cold as every hope is sunk
And slowly, loss by loss, she knows
Her fears have come to pass in droves
Slows down. Then shakes. Then starts but stops.
Tries not to cry, then cries a lot.
Stops. Attempts to dry her eyes.
Gives up, but finds that she can not:
For even though her orchard lies
In ruins, her resolve won’t die.
She can’t give up: there’s work to do
Chances left to gamble on
Hopes that still remain unsprung
She whispers soft, “Believe that’s true.
“The job’s ain't over till it’s done,
And somehow, someway, you’ll pull through.”