Whispered words dance in the wind
Those sylphic songs that smoothly wend
Through the skies, into the trees
Counterparts to rustling leaves
Which lie upon the barren ground
Curled, dried, and turning brown
Remainders of a vital life
Cut from the world with silver knife
Iron grey becomes the sky
Reminiscent of a heaving sigh
Sending winds to chill the bones
Whistling with bitter tones
Bark and earth are scored with frost
Voices of Green are hushed, then lost
The only comfort in this place
Now silent for this season’s space
Spring brings rebirth and growing things
Summer shines as songbirds sing
Autumnal leaves fly on fertile wings
Colder than Spring, Summer, and Fall
Winter remains loneliest of all