And bear the morning sun in rainbow hues,
Where brief months before the shadow
Of green oak danced in the light, as elves might
In a frenzy, trapped by sudden day against the glass.
What can this mean to a common life?
Of what importance can the passing of seasons be,
Shared as they are by all to see?
Talk of weather and the better times that were to be.
And consider the present as a gift you see.