Branches drip in patterned beat,
melting from the winter sun,
fragile to such rampant heat.

Nature’s cleansing is now done,
white has fallen prey to green,
melting from the winter sun,

Leaves sporting their lively sheen,
robins sing my mother’s name,
white has fallen prey to green.

Still I hang my head in shame,
crying tears of mourning dew,
robins sing my mother’s name.

The robins sing fondly of you,
ender of my winter grieving,
crying tears of mourning dew.

When I mourn my mother’s leaving,
branches drip in patterned beat.
Ender of my winter grieving,
fragile to such rampant heat.