Cycle Poem by Shannon Malone

The wind whips the snow
Left and right.
Like a nomad,
Never staying to long in one area.
When it finally settles,
It's already seeping through the soil.

The new owners are the spring plants,
Bursting through the sheet of crystals,
Making the world just a little bit brighter.

Suddenly the plants wilt and wither,
Dark clouds fill the sky,
Meanwhile the children laugh.
'What a peculiar cycle! 'they exclaim.
'To live a short period of time and die.'
Yet they do not know their role in it.

The air becomes chilled once more,
Winds lifting loose leaves,
And above the clouds they fly,
And drifting down as snowflakes.

It begins again.