Seasonal

A cricket chirps, it's song a call
The sun it dims, this summer eve
The air so moist the rain dost fall
Soon paint colours autumn leaves.

Reflection broken on the lake
By breeze that carries autumns breath
The beauty: nature never fakes
Except for early winters death.

For in the spring, green does return
And death was indeed just a ruse
The life of nature again burns
With greens and yellows splendid hues