Everything changes. We plant
trees for those born later
but what's happened has happened
and poisons poured into the seas
cannot be drained out again.

What's happened has happened
poisons poured into the seas
cannot be drained out again. But
everything changes. We plant
trees for those born later

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

Sheenah Pugh says she doesn't like the attention this one poem of hers has attracted and asks that people don't reproduce it or, if they do, don't attribute it to her. Please read what she has to say about it, and her other writings about her poetry and prose on her excellent website. And, pace Ms Pugh, I think her poem, whatever its merits and her feelings about it, has assumed a life of its own and found a place in people's hearts, as these things do. If you publish your writing you let the genie out of the bottle: you can't really withdraw it. As for not attributing it ... well I wanted to acknowledge what she says about the piece herself and I can't do that without identifying her as the author!