Fallen have the leaves of the past,
As new seasons draw near.
Veiled frosted glass when I glance back,
With roads ahead more clear.

And snow fell. A blanket anew,
No memories to bear.
But opportunity holds true,
To follow the white hare.

Changes have come at last? I asked.
Not to be misconstrued.
Under a great oak tree he sat,
Nibbling flowers bloomed.

Aha! It's come! The Spring is here,
A time to sew new seeds.
Harvest will be better than last,
With not a single ****.