-The Wheel of Time-

Upon the winter's harsh descent, that hugs the earth with snow,
The children of the fallen leaves, soon follow winds that blow.
And creatures of the frozen north, now seek warmth within the ground,
To which avails the silent trees, conversing without sound.

The ice encases lucky few that failed to make a stand,
Preserving flesh a feast for those, when spring soon takes its hand.
Fear not the chilling clasp of death, to which it claims the weak,
For it's the end that brings new life, that shall drink upon the creek.

Turn back the feeble hour glass, to ancestors long ago,
This forest born before their time, yet constant still it grows.
And as the final snowflake falls, upon the pines dismay,
Remember that our fathers passed by the same along their way.