sludge spot

there's a spot under the pot

where the sun never shines

the moss is growing fast

the water never dries

a year or two or maybe three

the warp has now set in

the rot is strong it won't last long

entropy in 3-D

pine needles join the dance

a moldy tango fierce

another drop another drip

the point of no return

beneath the moss under the pot

the wood is holding still

but touch the spot full of rot 

it crumbles instantly

beware the dark and damp

where no light enters in

things left too long decay

compost in formation

before that moment passes by

move the pot let it dry

coming

spring is dark mornings

when you feel set back

when life is bursting

but it is hard to get started

a flower slowly opens

and snow showers down

the unending night continues

getting shorter each day

you find something you lost

and lost something you found

and sometimes you are unsure

which is the right way up

each moment is full of hope

a potent elixir of potential

your dreams full of omens

an unmade world out of reach

the waking hours seem long

your heavy feet drag

spring is everything possible

nothing seems to happen

until you turn around

and winter is gone