What lies beyond that bright beckoning door?  

Does it hide welcome, does it veil sorrow,

Or things that I need or want even more?

Will I find friends or something to borrow,

How can I tell before it is open?

Do I hear opportunity knocking,

With something nice for which I’ve been hoping?

What if it’s just too terribly shocking?

I will not know what’s hidden behind it.

Remember a door concealed young King Tut!

If left unopened, will I mind it?

Will I be kicking myself in the butt?

I’m in the mood just to go back to sleep.

Maybe tomorrow: the secrets will keep.

Under trees and leafy things,

Upon the ground, so dead seeming,

Lay the food for new life, bringing

Old and new together singing.

Winds that wander lightly here

And do now and then awaken

Find no trees a’wrought with fear

Of being shorn or shaken.

Water flows ‘til comes the snows

And all about are soundly sleeping.

Like or not, the barren shows

Until anew, the warm life keeping,

Buds are growing, and are knowing

Sunshine with the hawks a’nesting

Spring will come, believe it hoping

When in winter, cold does sting.