Still Waiting

Still, beneath the forest floor
Doubting souls assess their store,
Waiting, though the earth breaths in,
Inherent rituals now begin.

Long they languish, odd it seems,
Frozen in their world of dreams;
Held by winter’s heavy claw
Their stifled lungs refuse to draw.

Cautious, they may perished be
Now left behind for all to see;
Beneath the weight of Autumn’s gold,
Not knowing when to face the cold.

Resigned to stay, they fester there,
Burdened and abandoned where
Inertia keeps them from the rest
As upwards thrust the bold and best.

Those eager “others” spread their roots
And lift the crust with massing shoots;
Rising to that first Spring call,
Looking down on those that stall.

These surging masses soon will reign,
Stealing ground they swiftly gain
From those that wait beneath the floor
Still doubting, they assess their store.

© Clive Harvey