Swinter

The cool breeze flips the page in the book
The water bubbles in the brook
The trees like to whisper, twist, and bend
Longing to soar away on the wind
The birds fly, singing all the while
And a chipmunk gathers nuts in a pile
Every living thing feels it
Barely, only a bit
But they can tell, day by day
That winter is on its way
They prepare for the cold, shivery snow
That will blanket everything head to toe
The lonely willow shudders at the very thought
Of being covered in the frost winter brought
Leaves are falling all around
Yellow, orange, red, brown
A girl is jumping through piles of leaves
Then runs to a house to read under the eaves
And as the water bubbles in the brook
The cool breeze flips the page in the book





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