A short poem describing the changing season
A gentle rain is falling
As my gaze wanders past the window
Signs of Spring are calling
Seen by those who know.
The subtle ways the trees are budding
And the position of the Sun.
Across the waves the gulls are scudding
With cries that sound like fun.
As migrations return
A feast will soon be set
For every creature that can earn
A place where survival is met.
Rene M. Thibault '10