In winter’s hush, the rust becomes my crest,
A quiet badge that time cannot undo.
Like tools asleep in my shed, I take my rest,
And wake in spring made sharper, born anew.

The sun returns, a coach with gentle hand,
Its warmth a summons pulling me outdoors.
My garden awaits, stirs and calls across the land,
And I step forth to tend its waiting chores.

Through summer’s stretch of long and golden days,
I wander slow, with tender, easy care.
The season hums in soft, unhurried ways,
And life grows full in the warmth of forgiving air.

Then winter folds me back to fire and snow,
Where stillness works its magic deep below.
The world lies hushed, yet every root and seed
Prepares its rise—renewal guaranteed.

The stillness of rust returns when seasons slow,
A quiet settling where my labours fade.
It waits in patience under winter’s glow,
Knowing Spring will sharpen what time has made.

Through toil and grind the dullness breaks its crust—
And shine comes rising honest from the rust.

By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)

This poem continues my Stillness in Rust cycle, written in response to kind words from fellow poet VerseBuster. It reflects how rust, rest, and the turning seasons shape us—quiet winters, sharpened springs, full summers, and the honest shine that returns through toil and renewal. Each cycle carries its own quiet strength.

#CycleInTheRust #SeasonsOfRenewal #StillnessAndShine #GardenLifePoetry #RustAndRebirth #LongJohnWrites