In the season thus we folly,

Tis' the wind is here alas;

But then our hearts just long to wander

In the splendor of green grass.

Soon again the snow is melted,

And replaced with morning dew;

But ne'r the heart shall be contented

When the wind is overdue.

This poem was written and posted for your enjoyment. Any reprint or reuse, in part or in whole is strictly prohibited without express written permission from the author at alahiker28@yahoo.com. Copyright implied. Copyright pending.