Two Seasons Onward

Leaves two seasons onward;
Wet-wood gone, would get us going.
Snow will bless a blowing past,
That glances to and froing.

Leaves two seasons onward;
Cradled babe, did set us sowing
Light which cries a pulling path
Which paves a way of knowing.

Leaves two seasons onward;
Copse in call, of brittle bowing
Wind will brawl a gathered grass
Whose turfed a fair foot's towing.

Leaves two seasons onward;
Weathered hands whose never owing
Dark will burn a tethered torch
That stills loves embers glowing.