Here is a poem from a few years ago. It’s not really jolly-holly, but I think the featured image above makes up for that.
The Gardener In Winter Night
Cold rain drips from branch and twig,
From edge of roof.
Yellow jasmine lights went dim at dusk,
The garden cloaked in absence and night.
The sky flattens,
The soil accepts.
The eye sees black.
Pond water steeping leaves,
Tree shapes flat against grey sky.
The gardener in negative space,
Opposite of summer’s exaltation,
Snowdrops soon to raise their elfin spears,
Violets wet and secret within dark green,
Crocus and tulip bulbed in earth,
Honeysuckle buds held tight by leaf to stem,
Blue poppies crowned in tattered leaves,
Rose canes studded with ruby nubbles,
Moss velvet green between reposing stones.
Return to rest.