When Winter Does Wrestle Death Poem by Mark Heathcote

When winter does wrestle death
snow lies falling with petals bereft
her mantles a meadow, white lily
uprooting stars, in heavens pity.
Fine, veils of silk they're spun to order
wheeling moths—circle and flutter
then Ferris wheel across the border.
Our souls are curdled in-God's-butter
when winter does wrestle death
no heart will beat in shadows bereft
the feeble will draw a second breath.
When winter does wrestle death
the old cudgelled wings, given new
give wave their goodbyes, at us adieu.