looking deep into

the intimate landscape close

shows the gentle greening

of springtime's newborn rose

soft green grows out from

winter's tired and frozen brown

new life pulsing through

last years branches now grown

walking through the wood

taking care not to shatter

the soft pale seedlings

that winds toss and scatter

soft sunlight whispers the birth of spring

once again gentle growing brings

moonlit dance

over field of new mown hay

evoking gentle mem'ry

of a sun-kissed summer day

crackling leaves

echo footsteps on the wind

bits of orange, red, gold now

lost as colors blend to grey

ripened smell

where our walking calls to mind

fragrant cinnamon evenings

where only the moon holds sway

autumn crispness lingers on

last breath of summer before winters song

 

winter fields of brown edged-furrows

growing drifts of white

that ripen to gold

in the setting sun

tall shadowed trees that bend branches

to tickle bushes

with leaf drops of snow

after day's done

going home late, slanting shadows

grow to horizons

to match the lines of fields

where now I run

makes me feel ever slight

in the winter evening's twilight