Seasons

The fragile blossom petals cling to its tree.

The seasons attack it with the wind.

In to the air, the petals fly free.

The tree, now bare, did not bend.

Time passes, but the tree holds against the rough breeze.

Neither rain nor wind could force the tree to descend.

When spring comes, flowers bloom with the bees,

The blossom petals clings again to its tree.

But nothing will interrupt this everlasting trend,

Life comes again blanketed in green.