Sad, the Way It Is

Stay, stay, pussy willow pussies,
stay, stay, bright daffodils,
little pigs grow into great big pigs,
sharp peaked mountains grind down to hills.

Sap bursts buds into leaves and petals,
leaves and petals cover the ground,
flocks of aunts admire new babies,
an old man in trouble, no one around.

Don’t ring me the bells of winter,
chant in a chorus how staid stars seem,
just as well say a promise is forever
or that brooks and rivers run upstream.