Softly, winds caress my skin, as in the meadow I lie,
above, the clouds make lovely shapes, as I watch them pass by.
A group of geese heading south, form a V as quick they fly,
they're making haste, Nature foretells that wintertime is nigh.
Leaves of brilliant colors fall, flowers wilt and soon will die,
hold tight to summer, as we do, then let go with a sigh.
The cycle of the seasons will hold sway, we can't deny.
The beauty in each season, though, is not in short supply.
Spring starts slow, quite reticent, like a child that is shy,
then suddenly, its blooms burst forth and stretch toward blue sky.
Summer is much bolder, for our attention it will vie,
with scents of flowers, trees in bloom, sweet berries we can try.
Autumn next won't disappoint, colored trees, sweet pumpkin pie,
then snowflakes shape a white landscape, old man winter stays spry.
Thanking God for everything, in this world that makes me high,
until my time on earth is through and I must say goodbye.
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