The Pioneers

The winds rush and blow

leaves crunch and rustle

the children run and cry

the lovers cuddle in the breeze

and the writers dream...

As the rains fall

and the winds blow

The cold follows close

The trees already bore

and are ready to rest

in a solemn peace

Their leaves fall

to kiss Mother Earth

and show her love

And to shower her love,

she raises their young

As the saplings grow...

Much may follow.

But let it be so;

There my be something

not yet known