Its winter now, the air is crisp,
the spruce trees stand proud with everlasting pines.
Suddenly my eyes are fixed on a birch,
where a lonesone leaf flutters in the breeze.
Determined to stay as long as it can,
knowing it won't get to see the next year.
I take some advice from this insignificent leaf;
hold on, be strong, rise above it.
A snapshot of nature appearing so small,
Could tell such a message, hold on don't fall.