I Often Wonder
What Tells the Leaves to Turn Red
Squirrels to Store Pine Cones
Birds to Fly South
The Air to Grow Crisp
Sky to Become Grey
Night To Spread its Long Wings
Moon to Rise
Over Frozen Fields
Your Eyes to Fill with Warmth
And For me To Long for Vigor
What Tells the Leaves to Turn Red
Squirrels to Store Pine Cones
Birds to Fly South
The Air to Grow Crisp
Sky to Become Grey
Night To Spread its Long Wings
Moon to Rise
Over Frozen Fields
Your Eyes to Fill with Warmth
And For me To Long for Vigor
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