What winter winds do tear from tender limbs,
warm spring replenishes to
in seasons warm and ripe with natures hymns
when slumber yields to quickened breath in souls
dwell beside dark waters, still and deep,
where leaf and bud are kissed by morning dew.
Along a densely wooded shore,
and seek whats hidden there, from mortals view.
By Laurel Lake, the legends say, the wee
folk dance by
light of day when winter snow
has once receded, leaving merrily,
abandoning the earth to things that grow.
stroll down quiet country lanes with me,
as seasons bloom with possibility.