" Winters Past "
It's standing wild and so free,
the goldenrod in front of me.
The winter snows have come so fast
to end this beauty that I see.
For of the longest winters past
that cut the night with icy blast.
And with the freshly fallen snow
we knew the weather could not last.
The wild seeds that sleep below
wait patiently but thawing's slow,
and all the things that grow in green
are waiting for the spring to show.
There lay the furrows bare and clean,
so many winters past they've seen
of season's long and cold and mean;
of season's long and cold and mean.