Summer time is ending.
The air starts to become dryer.
The days begin to shorten.
The blue colors of the sky become brilliant.
One morning we find that there is a quiet joy in the inhalations
Of the now crisp air.
The trees are welcoming you Old Grandfather,
With waving boughs of brilliant colors.
A sudden surprise one morning.
The view is all white snow,
Illuminating the trees and fields.
Oh, Grandfather Winter you have returned.
You bring us such gifts of beauty when you return each year.
Though we grumble and mumble with the cold,
We feel that quiet hushed joy
At the scenes of the snow on the trees.
The softly falling snow flakes
Gently changing our world.
Bringing to us the quiet beauty
That you give as a Homecoming gift each year.