Seasons

Across the wither hedges, through the fields of morning dew,
I have wandered through the meadow in a search for something new.
I have felt the brisky brilliance of the early autumn morn,
And have seen the treetops shiver in a cloak so sparsely worn.

Yet the winter sauntered closer and the tress grew barer still.
And my spirit flickered quickly like the candle on the sill.
And the time was growing shorter for the valiant and the bold,
For the winds of time blow steady and the winds of night blow cold.

But once again the summer came, if only for the day.
And once again my aging heart felt as it did in May.
And the world around glowed brighter with the dying of my fears,
As if my soul had chanced to miss the passing of the years.

And all seemed much more lovely than I ever dreamed before
That I prayed my land would never know the ravages of war.
For I know I'd feel much better when at last I closed the door,
And my heart would lie untroubled when the candle glowed no more.