Seasons by Mrs. Di Giovanni 2002

Trees of green touched with the pale first frost of winter.
Frail flowers cringe underneath their damp veils of morning.
The chill in the air has dug in for the season.
I wander alone and cold down the narrowing path.

Tiny buds spring from underneath their icy crypt.
Sounds of life ring through the forest’s depths.
Yellow specs of nourishment like a blanket shelter the ground.
I stride, still alone, but with the thought of you down the shortening path.

Full blossoms of elaborate colors and smells erupt in the warm sun.
The woods resound in a melodious discord.
The path is bright and full of flora.
Together now, we walk down the sun-drenched path.

Leaves fall gracefully back onto the earth.
Greens fade slowly into dark reds and browns.
Fauna gather and prepare for the coming change.
Together we arrive at the end of the path.