Soft, white cumulous clouds,
Where delicate whisps of cloud resemble
Thin strips of cotton candy,
The pure white centres,
That we rarely see nowadays
On the other side of the fluffy layer,
Rolling hills stretching for
Miles and miles,
Of little angular patches
In varying shades of green and white.
Occasionally there’s a tree,
Or a cute, traditional cottage,
Or a little winding dirt road,
Paving through the frosty green
Evenly cut grass.
The frozen meadows stretch forever,
Under the pale blue sky,
Where golden winter sunlight
Peeks through the white clouds
And into the countryside.
The frost is slowly melting in the heat,
The structures thaw beneath the setting sun,
Brown branches burst with life with birds who tweet,
At last we know that spring has now begun.
Above the budding flow’rs and healthy grass,
The skies are blue, the storm clouds start to blow,
The sunlight passes through the window glass,
And household cats all move into glow.
Those birds who tweet all fill the air with song,
They sing with so much joy and tenderness,
Awakening the wonderland of long,
Where green sprouts grow in nature’s perfectness.
The world spins ‘round from wind to rain to fire,
With ev’ry season beauty to admire.