When The Winter Is Done Poem by Peter S. Quinn

When the winter is done
With its roses in frosty
And it goes on or is gone
Like fall's leaves rusty
I will be there to find
Once again the fresh
That’s in the soil behind
Each earth's new enmesh

We have come a long way
Through turning of tides
Meet dawn's drifting ray
In its lone glossy seen ride
Felt the upper point lowered
Inside stresses of our own
From the ivory towered
And from thereon grown

But it's time to turn back
With something quite different
Give tradition a new talk
From what ordinary is meant
But shall I accomplish this
Through the hours that drift
Perhaps it's only a mere wish
Those men wings can't uplift