a time of change

ah, the seasons move on

By the wan of the Moon
with the cloud on high
the cichada sing
as we wander by

Orange tint to the cloud
Gruff look of the tree
It appears Autumn
is looking down at me

Autumn wryly smiles
For she knows far better than I
Her time's not long to rule this sky
While she holds Summers dying hand
Winter fast approaches land

For in his arsenal we all know
the dreaded power of deadly snow
snow to make the forage hard
snow to slippery up the yard

And until fair Spring stays his hand
He will wreak his havoc on the land
ice to make booted foot slide
and chill to leave nowhere to hide

Even the sun colludes to his hark
to make the days ever dark
and many days will pass this way
until fair spring negociates another way

And so the world turns
the seasons playing out their game
each trying for more days in their name
so they can claim another year
that a winner can be made clear