The poems in the book are arranged month by month. These few are taken from the collection and given their appropriate seasons.


In fields white with frost
the mole works out of sight.
Dark humps of earth.

Turning over brown
leaves of the past.
What was it
I wanted to know?

Rain endlessly falling.
Sitting quietly
doing nothing.


Sowing by lamplight.
In the beam of tractors
white moths.

They are here at last
young leaves
weeping on the willow.

The earth bears 
even your sadness.


Someone waist high
in the blue fields at evening
just looking.

Each day new colours
flower in the garden.
No one knows what the plan is.

When the page was blank
no one thought suddenly
a flower will appear.


Yellow leaves cover the path.
In the green wheelbarrow
red apples.

We wake to find the leaves
that filtered the light
are gone the branches
covered with frost
and the air white.

This is all a poet achieves 
windfall fruit
some other leaves.