A spontaneously written poem about changes, in season and in life.
|The sun goes behind the trees, casting a
shadow on the orange-stained leaves.
The birds fly overhead, all going
the same direction, all heading to the warmth.
The cold wind comes from the west, The chirping
cricket sounds of summer fade away.
The memories the sunny days, will soon
be blocked out by the shady-gray clouds.
Winter is coming soon, the icy-cold days
will tax the body and the soul.
Nothing is left for me to say, except that spring
will come again someday.