All Comes In Its Time

White puffs descending
Through the bright lit winter air;
A sun snow shower.









Hopping in the bush:
Small, chubby, black and white bird,
Close to the window.

The dark mirrored stream
Reflects the trees on its face
Rippled so slightly.









Winter trampoline--
A ring circling emptiness
Embracing a void.













Brown leaves still hang on;
Others long buried in snow.
All comes in its time.

Wind blows up the hill
Hollow whispers in my ear.
Can't make out the words.

A green leafed plant grows;
Its berries long disappeared,
Their stalks to the sun.









Now, the swing is full;
Its occupant frozen white.
Its human long gone.