Have you seen the sunlight go dancing with the leaves? To fill the air with rustles red and gold. Or felt the frost-frills forming fresh upon the trees? To cover them in coats of crystal cold.

Often in the twilight the wind will hasten by In desperate dash to catch the sinking sun, His passing seen in silver streaks across the evening sky Like painted light, to tell that day is done.

Taste the sting of salt spray, sharp but bitter sweet, Listen to the wind's song in the shrouds, Feel the surge of shining decks underneath your feet And watch the storm make patterns in the clouds.