The Sleepless Seasons

Autumn is the while of year
Uttering words of red and gold
The boughs will soon be naked as can be.
Underneath the branches' tier
Mounds of leaves heap in the cold
Now that autumn falls upon the tree.

With the passing of the weeks,
Inside the woodland haven there,
Nothing stops the changing of the green.
The snowy landscape dusts the peaks,
Evergreens are white and fair,
Rending winter's icy season's scene.

Soon the sun will warm the snow
Producing springtime streams
Rushing down the hillsides, quite beguiled.
In and out of dales they go
Nurtured by sunbeams;
Going on forever fast and wild.

So, now the year has run its course
Under heaven's sky,
Melodious in song, a troubadour.
Mountains harness summer's force,
Elevated, towering, high,
Rehearsing for the autumn's grand encore.