January's frost on the window,
look out, see the crystal snow.
Meadow stretched and barren,
hills peek with highs and lows.
February always bitter cold.
short cold month of the year.
Groundhog looks for shadow,
reminder springtime is near.
March brings signs of life,
nose pressed on window pane.
Eyes captivated by robins,
red breast friends home again.
April baby bunnies scamper,
warren covered with daffodils.
Meadow alive with wildflowers,
time of renewal on the hills.
May brings warmth to meadow,
a beautiful nature scene,
Eyes watch playful chipmunks,
cross rolling carpet of green.
June buttercups dance in wind,
sway to and fro in harmony,
Fragrance drift on the breeze,
past love filter back to me.
July's sun beats down on greens,
waits to quench thirst in rain,
Thunderhead rolls across field,
past love disappear once again.
August the meadow is a flutter,
fledglings have learned to fly,
Anticipation of autumn's arrival,
offspring leaning to survive.
September brings back the frost,
trees beyond meadow change,
Colorful hues create magnificence,
upon the distant mountain range.
October is strewn with pumpkins,
soon picked neath harvest moon,
Beauty is fading away slowly,
soon nature will sings new tune.
November's meadow looks bare,
no beauty or color seen at all,
Old Man Winter knocks on door,
snow will cover bareness of fall.
December's wonderland snowfall,
melts, drips upon window pane,
Gaze out on new fallen softness,
reflect on past year once again.
