The Symphony
Winter's Chill
There is a slight chill in the air.
The clouds above are slightly fair,
and through them comes the dim glare,
of the sun.
Nature's journey will soon begin,
to ride upon the winter wind.
In their homes squirrels hide within,
their young they protect and tend,
from the cold winter wind.
The mist of rain slowly falls,
far away a hoot owl calls.
On the ground little ants crawl,
making their long winter haul.
Tree branches are naked and bare,
not one bird will sit there.
Wildlife rushes to prepare,
the winter wind does not care.
Autumn Comes to End
The clouds above are slightly fair,
and through them comes the dim glare,
of the sun.
Nature's journey will soon begin,
to ride upon the winter wind.
In their homes squirrels hide within,
their young they protect and tend,
from the cold winter wind.
The mist of rain slowly falls,
far away a hoot owl calls.
On the ground little ants crawl,
making their long winter haul.
Tree branches are naked and bare,
not one bird will sit there.
Wildlife rushes to prepare,
the winter wind does not care.
Autumn Comes to End
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Winter`s Chill
Winter`s Chill
