Atop the tall gnarled staff.
The breeze it stirred them gently,
As the mystic, walked his path.
His purpose, true and clear,
He came to change the seasons,
As he did, this time of year.
He spoke his incantation,
The air was calm, and time stood still,
He had reached his destination.
Beheld the pristine land,
Then winter melted into spring
With a wave of his wizened hand.
To pass on to another,
His brothers task had just begun,
To make spring turn into summer.
