Seasons Of The Canopy
Once a patchwork of hues,
Arms cradle grays and blues
As winter’s frosty breeze
Sets free the last of leaves.
Canopy, there is no more
For it now carpets the floor.
A’last the sun grows in strength
While the days grow in length.
With the canopy still amiss
The hidden become opportunists.
A brilliant show of pinks and whites
Dot the woods with their highlights.
The dormant world does rise
From the rains that baptize.
Once more the guardians are draped
With hues of green over the landscape,
Across the arms of time
Standing proud as the years climb.
© Heather ~ Home Study From The Grateful Heart All Rights Reserved
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