Barren nothingness after a spectrum of autumn leaves have gone by, 
The days of anticipated yesterdays-
And still, winter is cold,
Even in the summer at 100 degrees-
But who’s to know when winter will find its way-
Into spring or summer or autumn leaves,
In the breeze, through trees.

A ribbon found its way into the sky one spring-
GOD sowed the only seed planted in the spring,
Melodies always sound sweet and taste soul in the spring too-
But the pleasant days of spring are still not long enough, 
The four seasons are not promised,
Spring is still here-
Only seed is still here, and beautiful, and vibrant,
and fragrant, and innocent-
And yours.

Summer was short with no contrast of transitions to follow.
Winter came suddenly with a vengeance,
To a ribbon once free, now mangled and burned by the heat of winter-
Much of the ribbon’s thread is gone.
The winds of winter carry the threads that do remain-
After all a ribbon still flies in the sky, 
Though the sky is much broader now, 
Summer is still here-
Only seed is still here, and lovely, and brilliant,
and strong, and cherished, -
And yours.

The frost is mean and wicked and does not know-
First seed from second seed, Middle seed from last seed-
Other seeds from, ONLY seed.
Winter has taken the springs only blossom, 
A blossom whose winter never came.
But who’s to know when winter will find its way-
Into spring or summer or autumn leaves,
In the breeze, through trees.

*******
A poem about the death of a family;
particularly the senseless murder
of an 18 year old only child.