by Profe Steve
Pitter patter drips Crystal liquid boon of hope, Sere land shall rejoice Blooms anew with teeming life. Cycle now begins anew.
Storm winds slashing chill Oak and elm bow down their heads In the fearsome blast. Though it howl and though it rend, Fear not for their roots run deep.
Blanket of soft white Settles silent on the hills Meadow buried deep. Neath the frost lie seeds of hope Await their time to flourish.