Down hills, sounds of wagon treading through the harsh road from departure;
it echoes amidst a quiet noon.
Above the warm and mellow sky, speckles of whites flutters, leaving behind gray-silver feathers.
The birds, once again, spreading their wings;
Leaving behind their home and travel east with leisure.
Seeking food and laying eggs for the next generation.

Commoner watches the brittleness of life fading away;
Preparing for winter as the leaves shed gray;
Paving the path for newly sprouted leaves when spring returns.

Chill, gentle mellow, soft blanket of hues embrace the living, and dead.
The children would be sent as errand-boy;
Helping their parents stock up supplies for the cold winter to come.
All year round of hardship, amount to little as they faced the imminent harsh season.

Not long, the street was emptied with none in sight.
On withered willow branches, a birch chirp, signifying that autumn has begun.

Gazing at the empty street, the window shut from the outside.
The quietness of autumn, strangely soothes one’s mind.
Not a voice nor sound was heard, as if heavens has lowered the curtain wide;
Deafening the land.

Living up north, the chill winds easily subdue one’s will.
Looking into a home, a wife was preparing a meal;
The husband would tend the fire, and take over heavy-duty tasks.
Their gaze wavered as they soon yearn for the coming of spring.

Faraway, a crisp, orange willow flew from its branches;
Landing on the ground below.
With a breath, gentle breeze embrace the willow with grace;
Carrying it thousands of miles away.

Facing hardship, the misfortune are bound to perish;
The lucky individuals are to be rewarded.
Such, is the bitterness of life as ones cherish;
For the four seasons are ever-changing.