本文发表在 rolia.net 枫下论坛There is a trail along a stream,
Just behind our home, through the narrow valley.
There is no name for it,
But the seasons know it from heart,
With sincere scenes they are plotted.

The soft wet spring rain brings mist for it,
The grass and bush turn green between.
There are quiet bubbles in the stream with sudden splash from children.
The trail is in cordial melody.

The summer blossoms in yellow and white,
The air turns dry and warm.
Bicycle and skate chases swiftly in and out,
The trail is shining and busy.

The autumn comes too quick to notice,
With the dandelion’s invitation.
Leaves fall down with sigh,
In their faint farewell.
The trail is the rainbow suitcase,
With all the colorful components.

The winter snow shields the trail,
With footprints big or tiny occasionally.
There is snowman watching,
In the holiday lighting and decorations.
The trail was quiet for a while,
To wait the early excited skiers.

The trail is for our friends, and me
Open and sharing with nature generousness.
We have all the seasons in fun,
With this unknown trail.更多精彩文章及讨论，请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net