Barren the branch,
no leaves appear.
Will they return?
Perhaps, next year.

The light,
the shadow,
meld into grey,
A colorful spot,
who's to say?

Red was the Fox,
scurrying on the ground,
trying to escape from
pursuit by a hound.
The Fox, was sly
as a fox can be,
thought," I can hide,
you'll never find me,
under a log."
Hidden, up tight,
the Fox stayed hidden,
to avoid having to fight.
After the hound passed by,
he came out of hiding,
for as a Fox, he was sly.

I missed the season.
A season now gone.
T'was supposed to be Spring,
but it passed us by,
with little rain,
except for the tears cried.

Comes the Sun
after the cloud
has sheltered us,
in early morn

Fair winds, they blow
across meadows, wide
and late Spring snow
sliding down
the barren hill.
A whispering sound
of winds words urging
you to find shelter.

Broad were the views,
a natural exhibit
of colors of Spring.
Much beauty to see,
as Nature's bling.

Multi-hued skies
reflecting in water, fast.
Rolling colors sparkled,
as the river flowed past.
A rainbow of colors
now on display.
A viewing of Nature's
most dazzling array.

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Waters rippling
from windy gusts.
Enough wind
to move branches,
not enough
to turn dirt to dust.

I raged at the weather,
while she praised the Sun.
I wouldn't stop whining
until daylight was done.

A canyon broad.
A cavern deep.
Which is the one
where Bats will sleep?