Winter Afternoon

Time may well fall quite heavily from noon,
When pale sunlight urges the first bud
To form on the grey bark of trees, that soon
Will flourish (come the spring) when the wet mud
May nurture bulbs that will yield fine flowers
That propagate, as the sunshine grows fierce
Enough to warm those petals; each one cowers,
Right now though, for the sun's rays do not pierce
The darkness that enfolds her, let her wait
For a rebuke or usage, that will seed
A hope that there'll be lust, without debate,
To satisfy the dream that she can feed
His appetites, though she's ready to swoon,
As time falls heavily this afternoon.