A Walk in Season

Come with me and we shall walk along like
Two lovers, two friends, among the white mounds
Of grinning, gleaming snow, thrown down the pike.
There's no sound- not even of yapping hounds.
Oh! The things we will see in the windows:
Translucent reflections covering the
Small pathes of fire-lit summer; high-lows
Of frolicking children and old lazies.
How delightful to watch the children play-
Those sprining wee tykes- breaths of spring rain,
Those darling small saplings, ever so gay.
They'll scurry about us, 'gain and again.
And as we near out destination, our
Footsteps fall in number, faces ruddy
With the blush of chilling winds of hours,
Felled leaves swirling as we embrace gently.