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SPRINGTIME TREES,
SWAY IN THE BREEZE,
LIMBS VOID OF LEAVES AND COLOR.
WINDS PASS ON BY,
NOT YET BLOW THRU,
NO BLOSSOMS GIVE RESISTANCE.
DEAD LEAVES ABOUND,
BLOWN ALL AROUND..
SOON TO BE NEW SOIL.
A TURKEY CALLS,
AGAIN TO MATE,
THEIR TIME OF YEAR GROWS NEAR.
THE DUCKS TOUCH DOWN,
SPLASH ON THE POND..
THEN SWIM AWAY IN SILENCE.
CLOSER..
CLOSER..
THE TIME SOON HERE,
WINTER IS FORGOTTEN.
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SOME SOUNDS OF SPRING
SOME SOUNDS OF SPRING
