Nature, The Truest Of Gold Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Nature the truest of gold,
The wilderness and meadows;
Where rivers flow and unfold,
The streams in altering glows.

Where greenery sleeps till spring,
With voices awakening then;
When the forest starts to sing,
As sky gets brighter again.

The summer is sweetest of all,
With colors so lovely and fair;
Then comes the fading in fall,
The autumnal symphony year.

Earth starts growing into cold,
And leaves start falling away;
A flowery becomes again old,
For now there's winter to stay.

The snowy seasonal while,
With frosty prairies and brooks;
Greetings and a Christmas smile,
A future in the New Year lucks.

It is the most - loveliest thing,
For nature is never - not living;
Circles of tides they will bring,
Treasures of each their giving.