Between the two

Before the crying over the dying had even ceased
The celebration of the budding of the bloom had begun
The dirge and the hearse upon one limb
The parade and the gaiety upon another one,

And I am left standing awkwardly between them.

The newborn bud beside the dying leaf.
In haste to grow and go on to new life
In haste to end a season so terminally brief
One as life giving scalpel, the other as murderous knife.

And I am cut in my love between the two.

Mourning the dying of the leaves from the trees,
While rejoicing in the coming forth of the new
For who can recall the life of but one who leaves?
Or stay the bud that unfolds before you?

I believe in the winter I shall forever dwell
No bud or leaf between and all is well.

by john clare