Whose woods these are I cannot say,
Their laughter rings from far away...
A whisper in the breeze, a dance of golden light,
Informed me that the season past...
Amidst the chill of winter's parting sigh,
The first of daisies dare to dot the glade...
As winter's grip begins to fade,
And snow surrenders to the blade...
As winter's grasp begins to wane,
And snow gives way to gentle rain...
Whispers of a season anew,
When winter's reign is almost through...
In the quiet hush of winter's end,
Where snow once lay, now flowers ascend...
Whispering winds in the midst of dawn,
Break winter’s grip, its coldness gone...
In the quiet of winter's end,
Where frost once claimed its reign...
Wind blowing through trees
The instruments of nature...
It was religion.
The yellow viper will strike...
Your trajectory was
rising. People rode the stars...