Constancy

You knew me
fragrant with bee-buzzing blossom
plump with rising juice;
and then, when summer
crowded my rustling dress
to dance me gaily with
the scudding clouds.
You knew me
when autumn's decline
stripped each leaf
and shrivelled sap.
And now, in winter's
frozen waste, holding
brittle endurance,
you know me still.

Should spring come late,
or not at all,
enduring all this
long bitterness,
you will not falter.