Autumn is almost over,
The trees are leafless and thin,
The mood is grey and dreary,
But then Chanoro comes.
The rain becomes swirling snow,
The ponds freeze into mirrors,
The grass becomes frosted and silvery,
The great Chanoro has come.
As children glance out of their windows,
Now topped with icicles shiny and slim,
They yell with glee and run to the winter wonderland,
Chanoro's work here is done.