A Poem

Of Seasons and Home


Where Spring will bring a bird to sing
and warm a withered wood--

Where Summer's breeze sends news of seas,
but only when it's good--

Where Autumn always enters late and
Winter exits soon--

Where hopes are always higher held
than any air balloon--

Where every mind will freely find
encouragement to roam--
On life, I swear: Till I've no air,
That place will be my home.

C. S. Lane
June 2009