The woods are multi-coloured now
just before the coming of winter’s snow
the leaves have turned to red and beige
upon the coming of autumn’s rage,
but after the long dark night
the woodlands will be a blanket of white
with snow, soft as feathers
that fall from birds in fields of heather.
With the snow comes a soft wind
to shift and blend
then sparkle as diamonds in the sun
until another day is done.
Date unknown
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem