Come snow, come now
The earth must rest
Life must store up vigor
To be reborn in spring
The harvests natural
Depend upon dormancy
That their fruits be plenty
A boone, a gift for all
When winter's mild stay
The life forces weaken
Pestilence remains
Their population stills
Disease can thrive
The weak survive
The bounty barren
The mild brings loss
Buds die in spells
An unblooming bush
Only bellies growl
Life takes itself in
The rains wet the soil
There microbes lay
Uncontrolled abundant
Choking the cultivars