Spring in Winter

The bushes have grown grey and red in hue,
The crops, they have all sunk into the ground.
The sweet green grass has disappeared on cue
And there is not a rosebud to be found.

The bitter sky is grey and unforgiving,
The Lakes and ponds reflect no apple tree.
The ocean; it is filled with nothing living,
There's nothing from sea to unshining sea.

Yet in this vast wasteland there is still
Something that stands out from ever'thing more;
'Tis light that shines out on a distant hill
Forevermore you reach the golden shore.