Soon, ole Jack Frost comes, brush in hand,
and changes all the woods’ décor.
His palette colors, bright and grand,
are brilliant as in times before.
The leaves start falling from the trees
like gemstones from a broken chain
and leave them clothed in bark chemise,
dull-colored, bare, and starkly plain.
When foliage tumbles to the ground
and only evergreens are dressed,
the forest heads are left uncrowned,
surrendering to Fall’s request.
They rest, asleep through Winter’s siege,
as Mother Nature has decreed.
Like knights in armor vow their liege,
devote their will to season’s need.
|
