The leaves have dried
And withered away.
The tree limbs are broken
And turning dark gray.

When all things look grim,
A desolate fog.
The chimneys get started
And create a light smog.

The snow hits the ground
And blankets the floor.
The doors start to open
The kids' hearts soar.

For all the desolation
And frostbitten cold,
For all that is bleak
Nature behold.

The beauteous earth
And all that is true.
Mother always seems to find
Her way through.