~

The last of days in January

have come unto fore,

.

and Quince has reached

into bloom –

    Winter is no more!

~

But no one knows

where Winter goes,

and what’s in hold and store –

.

it’s never been

quite this warm

in Winter, here before!

~

For fifteen years

and then again

maybe even more,

.

I’ve never known

Old Quince to be

so quick and rash before.

~

It may yet still,

it has the will,

to snow, which Quince abhors.

.

I fear the worst,

I fear for more,

with which he’ll not endure.

~

I’ve told him once,

if I’ve told him more,

but Quince will just ignore,

.

“Be careful there,

be on aware,

we don’t know what’s in store.”

~

For it’s been shown

that no one’s known,

so how can he be sure?

.

Old Quince he has

no common scents,

for Quince is just a     fleur.

~