Seasons (c. 1975)

A peaceful scene at last we've found,
soft green meadows, golden ground,
streams and fields - the kind we love -
gentle breezes, crying dove.

So long we've waited, so long we've tried,
wondering if it's true.
We should have known it all along -
we never need have cried.

These mountains and these meadows
are all a part of us -
they need no explanation

The snow falls gently
as it did last year -
the bells will soon be ringing,
I feel them drawing near.

Do you remember that, so long ago?
the crystals forming slowly,
yellow sky, turning gray -
blacker now, the snow retains the day.

I wrote this then, with different words
but still it feels the same.
To hold you close and keep you warm
on such a night as this -
to see with you the brilliant stars
the coal black sky - to share a frosty kiss.

Remember how it felt, to huddle close,
to watch the wipers thicken -
to slither sideways on the ice?
You told me to use Second.