in secret sounds the summer snow carried slowly by a breese,
danced calmly to the secret sounds, and found their way with ease.
unburdened by the time we keep, and details of our sin,
the summer snow will catch their fate, and keep the peace within.
sharing only what is ment to share, a plan to be decided.
the seeds of life, called summer snow, think not of what's provided.
instead they cure a precious place, when time indeed sees fit,
and birth a tree, with breath of life, a circle fast, intransit.
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I like the seeds of life called summer - that is so fitting.
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