A blanket of green becomes gold,
The precious stalks fall to dust,
Icy needles form underfoot,
Golden skin turns to rust.

A windy chill scythes right through,
The seasons turning cold and dark,
Heavy showers lash the world,
Dead trees an image so stark.

From autumn into winter
So the cycle goes,
Rain morphs into driven snow,
Ageing people held in death's throes.

The bitter winter snares all around,
Trapping all in drift and storm,
Mother nature's coldest moment,
A powerful force of her inner scorn.

But as the season gets bleakest,
When all light is robbed from day,
People gather to celebrate his coming,
The saviour making all feel gay.

And as the dawn of a new year rises,
The light filters back from the dead,
Tired bears and creatures rise,
Signalling the end of winter's dread.

And thus the spring quashes the cold,
Dead trees and gardens bloom again,
The wind and shower gone away,
The joyous season winter's bane.

Even with the odd wind and shower,
All savour the season's return,
They all anticipate a scorching summer,
Hoping that they will not burn.

When summer arrives there is uncertain eyes,
Storms, sun and winds the tide brings ashore,
Seasons wither and change in time,
A cycle repeated forevermore.