Honours are for those
Who hold out
Against the odds.

The blossoms dazzle
Before falling
In the breeze.

The fruit shines
Until conquered
By over-ripeness.

Leaves glow gold
Despite the certain
Return to earth.

The final battle
When it comes
We must lose.

Until it comes
We must dazzle
Shine,glow gold.

So
I bring you
Snowdrops.

They have fought
The loss of Spring
Summer and Autumn.

Now, minutely elegant,
Valiantly they lead
Against the inevitable winter.

So I bring you snowdrops
For honours, for holding out
Against the desperate odds.

And I bring you love.

Bob Fowler