Sub Specie Aeternitatis
This Sunday afternoon I meant
by Pete Crowther
To write a poem but fell asleep.
I woke alone in the summer house
To hear the raindrops pattering
On the wooden roof. Outside the grass
Is lush and freshly green. Beyond
Upon the paving stones are scattered
Apple blossom petals. Already
They have begun to fall.
Seasons pass and spring follows
Spring. Each year it comes anew.
Branches sway in the wind, the leaves
Fluttering like shoals of fish.
Their scales glitter in the sunlight
Like a waterfall of time
Splashing into eternity.