Enter the Spring which has sprung up again,
Here without warning, yet welcomed a friend,
Colors are bursting! Beauty has woken,
Everywhere spinning, love is in motion!
In comes the heat, which now follows the Spring,
Summer will burn up inside us the things,
Of all we avoid and yet seek to find,
Is born of the sun of our summer-times.
Soon is the Fall, or the Autumn more like,
For Autumn is beauty –––Fall isn’t quite.
For, in the former, the change is revered,
While in the latter, the shift is of fear.
Then is the Winter, the color is gone,
Harmony’s broken, and with it the song,
Falls to the earth with the blizzard and ice,
Crushed into lifelessness, fading to white.
Once again Spring, while return to the stage
Finds a dead world, with a foot in the grave
If trees fall alone and make not a sound,
Does spring after winter, ever come round?