A hot summer burns each golden day
then autumn calls with it's coat of grey.
Falling leaves and winds that are strong
a mild taste of winter that can be hard and long.
A faded blue sky turns a misty grey
as it heads down that darkened way.
Then after dawn the sun rarely shows but the embers
in the fire just glows and glows.
The sea and the surf just crash upon the shore
another year over just as many before.
Fishermen take time to mend their nets
the catch is now over but there are no regrets.
Days of the year told in time and tide
a circle around the world as the seasons divide.
A different climate for bird and beast, but poverty
remains and for those there is no feast.
A green pasture for one and a desert for another
pray tell me why this earth has been called Mother.
