RENEWALAs the fiery color of the sun is absorbed by the leaves,
The grass, feeling the cold come on,
goes to sleep and forgets the winters cold wind
which will soon be rattling through its brown, seemingly dead blades.
The trees give there beautiful red, yellow and brown coats to the ground
attempting to keep it warm.
Now, only a few are lucky enough to keep there green coats,
which will keep them, and the sleeping rabbits under there bows,
warm throughout the winter.
The trees are silent now, the birds have all left,
there is no playfull rustling of the leaves by wind or squirrel
for there are no leaves.
Then, from the bright yet cloudy sky, a single snow flake falls.
It glides to the ground and melts ever so slowly.
Then, another, and another,
The excited children whipping on their coats, run out into the sky
and greet the snow as if it were a long lost friend come back to play.
Soon, the ground is completely covered except for the tip tops of the
peeking out of its cool white blanket to see all this wonderment.
The night is clear, the snow has stopped,
leaving several inches of snow for the children to play in when they wake up earlier than usual the next morning and rush out into their new playland.
Snowmen are the landmarks of the ground that the children have conquered
and claimed as their own.
Then, as if life were a story book, the snow begins to fall again,
but this time, it means even more, because this is Christmas eve.
As depicted in so many stories, it will be a white Christmas again.
Christmas comes, and Christmas goes.
The end of the year is here
and we ring in the new year and prepare ourselves
for what's to come.
We know that spring is back when we hear a few birds,
then the trees sprout into a green dotted mass.
As we watch the leaves of the trees flourish
and the flowers begin to bloom
and the animals rejoin us,
we know that new life has begun and summer is on its way.
Summer arises and like the warm first beat of a heart a new beauty is
The grass is awakened, and new like the trees,
it ferments into a green growing shelter for the ground,
as it has so many times before.
Life is all new and beautiful during the summer, and yet, by the end,
we can't wait for fall.
By: Bruce Flanagan
Written sometime in the early 80's, I think 1982, but rediscovered in 1997 and embellished here in 1999.
I'll keep my day job, but I had to share this with you.