Winter is here again

Little stream, snaking under trees
The flapping wings, of busy bees
The sun’s angle, much lower nowadays
Sending, its yellow golden rays
The tree leaves, brownish and dry
Some still clinging on branches high
Some already fallen, onto the rushing stream
Floating, like little boats of steam,
Racing downhill, like little octagon stars
As if they were, speeding “Nascar” cars,
Squirrels and chipmunks are in a rush,
Panicked, as winter is about to crash,
Collecting their nuts, everyday counts,
In the Canadian winter, there are no discounts,
Geese are still goose-stepping the lake’s shore,
Soon winter will be knocking on our door
The last few leaves will slowly make their fall,
Breeze will make way to squall.

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