The Chill Of The Air

A cold, mysterious vale fell on the meadow.
The Sun but a passer by, trying to look in.
The wind hugged the wheat as it rolled up and down.
The tree shuddered torn, their reach closing in.
Leaves danced on air, and fell to their death,
But never no more, for their brothers would come.
Blossoming dreams as the country retires,
The circle of nature has once more begun.
The clouds, be them wilting, and tearful for now,
Bring hope that the darkness will always be here.
For if that be true, and steady she goes,
Then Light will soon follow, that is for sure.

Written By Shane Ferguson
Finished On The 25th Day of September 2008