In the Gutter of This Spring

Outside the rain keeps falling

On foul soil, dying snow

Melting and transforming

to waters made of woe

Grey clouds brewing idle

the trees can not withstand

What is dead and gone by

is mixing with the sand...

...In the gutter of this spring

Inside the days remain

in a dim and lightless paint

and with the naked branches

the sun did not acquint

What is dead and gone by

and did not yet begin

is flowing to my hand

from the gutter of this spring