Hidden

Hidden Just out of view Work’s being done To make all things new Hidden Under the snow Last Summer’s blooms Will have new color to show Hidden Beneath the ground Once frozen roots Start to rebound Hidden By Winter’s sting Is the promise of life Fulfilled each year by Spring

Fade

Covered by fallen leaves And orange pine needles Once green; Acorns on the ground Become lost treasures To be found; By squirrels Who prepare For autumn’s sundown; When a pointed finger Issues an icy demand, “Colors, fade. You must follow Winter’s plan.”