Life In Winter's Graveyard

A poem I wrote in December.

Walking down a muddy road
In the throes of December
Heaving through the decay
Of Spring's now frozen embers
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?

Frozen trees bereft of leaves
Stand upright in frosted death
Fields once ripe and lush with fruit
Lay still without the Summer's breath
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?

Soggy soil sloshing below my feet
Autumn's leaves have been swept away
And while I march on viciously
My eyes behold only death and gray
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?

Then comes a patch of greenery
A lush, though simple, paradise
I stop to gaze at the loveliness
Beheld before beauty-starved eyes
There is life in Winter's graveyard.

A patch of three-leaved charms
Circling the base of a withered tree
I gaze at this Springtime green
Surrounded by December's villainy.
There is life in Winter's graveyard.

Though Winter's tomb encases
Our world in a carcass' masquerade
This patch of sought-for greenery
Removes the masks from Death's charade
There is life in Winter's graveyard.