I can see the strand of trees as I wake.
Yellows, reds and oranges so mighty bold,
autumn colors cause me a second take.
Winter with the branches so dark and cold,
whites, browns and grays: all barks so very bare,
make me sad in many ways: feeling old.
Spring yields buds, sweetly new, without a care.
Pink and creamy flowers with greens do grow.
My trees make my soul feel free: songs so fair.
Summer and heat can make the leaves drupe low.
But flowers, reds and purples, near my trees,
and rain showers sure give us all a glow.
I find that my dear trees do share and see
life-seasons: beauty for eternity.