The Finger Lakes

The Finger Lakes

Snow has dusted my front lawn
in dappled green and white.
Here, winter's final breath is drawn,
with a thaw in morning's light.

Dawn is breaking midnight's veil
across the Finger Lakes.
Warm spring breezes will prevail
against the tiny flakes.

A brighter day has come about,
the outlook is brand new.
The green of spring is peeking out
and here for all to view.

Across the creek the saplings stand
still bare from winter's chill
and in the rocks where eagles land,
there's hungry mouths to fill.

The deer are feeding in the sun
up in Letchworth Park.
The place where Mary Jemison
left her timeless mark.

A red fox hunts the valley floor,
and chases field mice.
He is a part of woodland lore,
his moves are so precise.

The bear is waking from his sleep
and hunger fills his eyes.
He's fishing in the eddies deep
for there the Brook Trout lies.

All these things must come and go
and run the course that's there.
With all the players in the show,
we need to do our share.

Mother Nature has a plan,
all the lines are drawn.
We'll heed her warnings all we can;
before another dawn.



By T.L. Finch}


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