The Seasons From My Meadow

Green as emerald lays the soft soft grass; Dotted slightly with red, blue and yellow. Lay down I shall, while watching the world In my golden sunfilled meadow. Wind whistles softly through the air, Scarlet petals dance on the breeze; The leaves russel, while the branches crack, And sweet chirping fills the trees. The leaves russel begins to grow quiet, As their time ends, and they lapse to the ground. The entire world does shed herself Of the plunder in sunshine found. Nature goes all into slumber, The shadows creep in ever quicker. Glowing pumpkins hold the streets close by; The veil of the spirits, no longer thicker. As she sleeps, she receives a blanket Of frost, and cushions of snow. Trees now holding snoozing critters, As they become prisoners of colds hold. Firesides begin blazing brightly. Darkness takes hold quicker still. Decorated pines in living rooms erected, So with joy, the misery of cold we can kill. Finally she begins to awaken: Songs again start to fill the air; The sun gains his longer watch once more, As flora and fauna again reappear. Life again abound and bountiful. As we celebrate under the moon. The flowers scent fills the air once more, And my meadow is now back in bloom.