The Sumber

Crisp and cold the air rolls in,
Striping the the earth of life.
Crisp and cold these leaves become,
Striping the trees of their beauty.

The ground soon freezes,
And the heart grows cold.
Snow falls to the ground,
So white. So bold.

Silent and cold,
Are the branches.
For they know not the sun,
The warmth they require.

Spring has not yet arrived.
The sun still sleeps.
Her slumber so deep.
Cold and alone we wait.

This is the Winter.