Why are you afraid to feel
The yearly sleep of winter,
When there’s frost-scent in the air
And leaves from the trees splinter?

Have you never longed to curl up
Underneath a quilt,
After a long day of toil
Caused your soul to wilt?

Wasn’t it the sweetest rest
When you could move no more?
The instant you rested your head,
Sleep began its lure…

Trees and flowers are like you,
Thriving on the land.
Do not mourn when leaves are crisp,
But try to understand.

Hear that rustle in the breeze?
It’s nature’s stifled yawn.
Go inside and find a blanket,
Because life goes on.

Trap a butterfly
In the wood.
It would fly away,
If it could.

It too longs to
Spread its wings,
Hearing what the
Season sings.

It fades into
The sky above.
Learn what it can
Say of love.

Where’s it going?
Why was it made?
Will its colors
Ever fade?

Let’s sit in the Wood for hours.
All our tasks at home can wait.
I’ll point out the pretty flowers,
While you talk to me of fate.

My struggle, I must confess,
Is living life to a strict law:
Checking tasks off of a list,
Seeking a day without flaw.

The real flaw is to live in chains.
Beauty hides in this still place!
Sit with me, and if it rains,
A deluge we’ll embrace!

Let not your heart be parted
To be placed in strangers’ hands,
Because hearts are fragile;
They will break in loveless lands.

You’ll find out who loves you
When your heart they do not steal.
Seeing you become so frail,
They will help you heal.

If one day your heart insists
On care from someone new,
Be sure they will cherish it,
Remembering it’s you.

An old clock ticks;
It’s half-past one.
Above, a Star
Sees everyone.

The broken souls
On streets below
Have found no cure,
No place to go.

The old clock has
Not known a night
When Star has turned
Away her sight.

Stirred by pity
At human fright,
She breaks the fog
To shine her light.

Great love helps a plant grow strong.
Her children can withstand the storms
Of life when tears become the song
And there is much to mourn.

Great love gives fire to a hearth
When winter nights are long and bleak.
She’s nurturing the growing earth,
Comforting the weak.

Great love—she’s an ocean wide,
The deepest and the warmest sea.
There are always hugs inside,
And they’re always free.

Evening’s colder.
The crickets are crying.
October nears, and
The forest is dying.

Birds in their companies
Far-away flying;
Trees shedding foliage—
Their forest is dying.

I’m in a fog, and
My spirit is sighing.
Where can I go where
My wood isn’t dying?

Shadows are stretching;
Perhaps I was lying.
Here I will stay, and
The forest is dying.

I wear flowers in my hair,
Even when they’re not in bloom.
Vining plants are everywhere,
Winding ‘round my room.

God made four seasons to be;
He is wise and he is fair.
Still, I look around and see
The Green is ever there.

Let me dream that things can stay,
Even after a farewell.
Then I can more easily say,
“So long—time will tell.”

Autumn does not mean a thing:
Forests spring up in my heart.
This dream I’ll keep nurturing,
Until I’m full of art.

Soft, persistent
Autumn air,
Bringing in the
Winter fair.

There is much
I must forget,
But the year’s
Not over yet.

Cool and smelling
Of a hearth.
Copper foliage
On the earth.

Fill my lungs
And soothe my soul;
Snow will come
And find me whole.

She’ll pass through the wood
In her midnight-blue gown.
Always she visits
The sleepy old town.
Many have seen her
But none know her name.
She does not speak to them;
It’s all the same.
Folk say her weeping
Brings trees from the ground,
Tears like a river—
O! mournful, the sound.
A lad claimed she joined him
On a moonlit walk…
But he can’t describe her,
So how can he talk?
One thing is for certain,
She reigns in the night,
Pale as a moonbeam,
To some a great fright.
Good mothers tell children
Not to stay out late.
One doesn’t know
When the Lady doth wait.