Promises, Promises

Shortest day,
On the cusp
Of a new year;
Tardy sun
Heaves herself
Over the horizon,
Relieved
That from today
It will get easier.
Precious
Extra minutes
Will soon illuminate
The winter garden,
Highlighting
Seasonal treasures:
Snowdrops
Cornus,
Witch hazel,
Virginal white
And fiery shades,
Enticing
Beacons of colour
Amidst the stalwart greens
And bleak decay.
And yet not so bleak,
For the garden
Holds promise,
The promise of spring
Of summer
Of autumn,
A vow
Renewed without fail
Each year.