The Seasons Poem by michael Guillory

The Seasons



The air is sweet and the grass is green. Children romp and play about in fields freshly cut. Birds sing their sweet songs that float through the air like clouds in the air. The sounds of people laughing and having a wonderful time. A time to do things you want to do or go places you want to go. But the months pass by and in comes fall. The trees shed their leaves. The grass withers and dies. All is still it may appear, in comes winter which is harsh. The ground is frozen and no life appears, it seems that it will never end. Al things come back to life again. Trees regain their green garb and birds sing a song of joy.

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