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I usually hear a basic melody as I write a lyric. Sometimes I even get a sense of full orchestration. In this one, I heard a children's choir. I always think of it that way, and it seems right to separate into the short lines you find here. Maybe you will hear what I hear.


Leaves of Autumn fall,
a rain of brilliant hue.
Delicate and small,
seeds are falling too.
Covered with the leaves,
hidden 'neath the ice,
the Ark of Autmn sleeps,
through Winter days and nights.
A blanket of white snow,
shields them from the wind,
till Springtime breezes blow,
to summon them again.

Through the Winter chill,
secretly they rest,
delicate and still,
in a hidden nest.
When the Mountain snows,
feel the warming Ray,
snow-water starts to flow,
some early Springtime day.
Then the Sun grows strong.
Then the Robins call,
like a flowing song,
through the forest hall.

The Seed will slowly waken,
reach downward with its root.
The shell is slowly shaken,
by the Sunward shoot.
Blessed by April shower,
summoned by the Sun,
the Seed will grow and flower.
Another Spring has come !
The Cycle of the Seasons,
has again unfurled,
the promise and the reason,
to blossom in the World.

( © 1998 -"Future Folk" Music - Betty Curtis )
Seasonal Songs