As the rain in the highlands falls ,
The smell of wood burning stoves hangs in the air .
People smiled behind closed windows with
A welcome warmth of company to share .
The past is gone and today is with us but a while ,
The autumn child shall grow .
Wood piles await the Winter ,
Leaves await the rake ,
The Highrange awaits the snow .
Winter awaits the spring ,
Closed windows will open up ,
And the Spring child shall smile .
The future rests itself in open spaces ,
Beyond the mist a little while .
Mother Nature throws her home open .
And the summer child is welcome to stay .
Wafting through the air ,
The smell of wood burning stoves ,
But the child has gone away.
By Paul McCann
Originally Posted On Site: 2007-09-23 06:19:54
Last Login: 05.24.12
Visits as of 12-12-07: 165
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