Seasons cold that push the frost
hiding from the clock time ticking.
The chickadee cries wait wait..
she's still playing in the tall wheat grass picking.
For the peek a boo of lovers,
waiting for breeze the summer warms.
Electricity comes on the coattails of the sparrow
when the nighttime turns to darkened storms.
Sun beams through the old farm windows
your gaze peeking through the seasons of my life.
The hide and seek of friendship,
cut up for children, a cake with a golden knife
One day she will take that lovely creature
wrap them up with feathers from her nest
and play the tiny birdsong of words
where her eyes speak and the heart knows the rest
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