Left to her own devices

Left to her own devices, do the seeds
of her submission flourish in the Spring?
And does she contemplate all that he needs
from her? And would she do just anything
to keep him in good humour? Will she muse
on never-ending tasks that he'd direct
her to, while she considers each excuse
she'd place before him and so resurrect
humility?

She hopes that he'll not mind
apologies and tears in a profusion
of regrets that are kindled by the kind
of rebuke she is used to. Each contusion
upon her skin is evidence of crisis
that burdens her, left to her own devices.