Dani Petersen Poet I do not know?

With Seasons

With fallen leaves,
Flakes shall descend,
Like feathers from the heavens conscend.
With melting snow,
Spring shall come,
Like new butterflies from the coons natal plum.
With drizzling rain,
Light shall appear,
Like chicks from eggs every year.
With raying sun,
Winds shall behold,
Like birds from the south not to catch cold.

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