Whilst We Are Living

We are only afraid

Whilst we are living

We are locked in a room

From which there is no escape

And the winter closes in;

A bird sings bravely

Against the numbing cold

A worm turns the earth, unseen

Whilst we rage against luck

Or lament missed opportunities;

In a hole in the mortar

A bee is burrowing

A tree branch, moss-greened

Waits patiently

More patiently than us;

We are only afraid

Whilst we are living - 

The meadow-sop wets our feet

As we trudge through

To nowhere.