As I’ve raced through life,
amidst the jungle of our world,
I’ve found a peaceful corner
to listen for your whisper.

I see you in the canopy of leaves
and grasses that wave in the wind;
in the depth of azure seas,
and the reawakened spring creek.

The world of life hums along,
with afternoon shadows sharing in your design.
Nature quietly sings your song,
inviting me to join along.

By a crackling fire, they stood,
whispering promises,
in a cream-white dress and lace,
a bouquet of flowers nearby.

Gazing into the other’s eyes,
they recited their love troths,
and began their adventure,
with a simple “I do".

Along this springtime path I tread,
as Earth awakens from its slumber.
Buttercups glint in the sun’s first light,
while dew rolls off their waxy gold.

Spring-beauty line my morning walk,
along with orchid splendor of violets.
Jack in the pulpit collects its chaliced dew,
beside shooting stars fallen to the ground.

Horsetail reeds, segmented and green,
in tawny conical hats,
and trilliums with triads of snow-white petals,
encircling golden throats.

Smells of earth and green unite,
in silence of the woods deep.
Streams filled with new life held in their *****,
awaiting birth in the warmth of spring.

The first snow of winter, a most magical time,
when soft, gentle flakes float down from the sky.
They cover the sidewalks with light fluffy snow,
and light on one’s lashes and tickle one’s nose.

When Jack Frost bids eager young children to play,
in the season’s first snowfall, there can be no delay.
For the snowmen are calling, and sleds line the hills,
entreating the little ones, come get your fill.

The air becomes silent, in whiteness surrounds,
while a blanket of frostiness covers the ground.
And sun gleams on snowflakes that light up the sky,
bringing joy to the hearts of each passersby.

In the darkness of night, the quiet still grows,
and each flake brings a peace that the season bestows.
The moon glow reflects off the country gone white,
now heralds a season of wintery delight.

The snow falls silent,
on this cold, crisp winter’s day,
lightly dancing on the wind,
inviting me to join in its ballet of ice.

Enchanted by its frozen magic,
as it shimmers and winks at me,
it’s magic works its spell,
and I join in the dance.

She whispers to me,
on the brisk morning breeze,
in the flowers of spring,
and the leaves on the trees.

Wrapping me in her arms,
when I’m troubled and scared,
reassuring and calm,
like the warmth of the air.

She oft holds my hand,
when we trek winter’s cold,
and she whispers to me,
“You are never alone”.

Though you left long ago,
you're not far from my side,
a mom and her daughter,
whose love never dies.

Autumn up north is upon us again,
with sharp contrasts and fallen leaves,
squirrels and chipmunks scurry about,
preparing for the winter snow.

Days of polished azure skies,
backdrop to sugar maples
on fire in the colors of change:
burnt oranges, crimson reds, and golds.

Leaves twist and twirl in the air
on their way to their winter rest,
crunching and scratching
on sidewalks before me.

The shrill caw, caw, caws of blue jays,
cut through the thin morning air,
heralding the oncoming cold,
with sharp gusts that sting the cheeks.

The scents of autumn so familiar,
musty and crisp, inviting and blustery,
envelop me in memories of years past,
like a familiar friend calling me out to play.