How many seasons have gone by
How many times have the trees had to cry
In this life that we Count by years
Do the Whispering Winds Count the crackling tears
They freely fall it’s natures way
Only we keep them at bay
We hold on to life But it’s just a slice
A Circle a cycle A roll of the dice
But we don’t want to let go
But we know that we will
A circle a season
a plot to be tilled
