Times Are A Changing (From, Poems Of Papa Due Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Times are a changing,
Spring of night goes;
Seeds are rearranging,
Where the wind blows.
Through the moves forward,
The forest in the sun;
Life is long and hard,
Joyless or some fun.

Crows and wild dogs,
Each with day or two;
Onward further logs,
Sideways for the new.
Garbage and the picnic,
Reborn hundred times;
Within a mouse click-click,
Rearrange this rime.

Times are of the ages,
Name by name and game;
Fountain river images,
Never flowing to same.
Sleeping land and sea,
Beneath the beating waves;
Roots from a living tree,
Barefoot and sleeping paws.