My life in the winter is still and cold.

The ground and the walls are always so dark.

I do this year after year, as I grow old.

My whole life has been spent is this nice park.

As I wake up from another sleep,

I crawl outside and rejoice in the light.

I see the trees, and I begin to creep

Back into the rotation of days and nights.

Carpenters are carving. Fisherman are fishing.

I leap back into the usual routine.

At the end of the season, I’ll be wishing

To stay forever in the summer scene.

I’m heading out to the lake, over the prairies

To catch some fish and maybe fetch some berries.