These Seasons Four

These seasons four that shape our sphere
Can but be hinted at and mentioned here
By words that set the reader's task
To fill the void, though it is vast...

From white capped winter rims, Spring starts her trip
In brilliant beads that young plants sip.

Hence, fields of waving blades 'neath the necks of colored crowns
Whose scenery is held by light blue bounds
And is blessed by the poetry of a butterflies' ballet,
Accompanied by crickets, frogs, and a feathered rally.

The sweet scents of Spring grace the passing breeze
As fragrance flows from flower flooded trees
Whose tender sprouts, greenery as such,
Delight the sight, delight the touch.

As young plants grow and buds unfold
So too does Spring to Summer; new to old.

And with warmer days and shortened sleep, she brings
The pleasures 'neith mushroomed trees near springs
That run between the toes of many, while shadows shield
The Summer's sun that in the distance paints the open fields.

One should see the dazzle 'tween the twigs just right,
And feel the force of a Summer storm's might,
Or the coolness of a brook - its tone a soothing song -
Its touch so right, one may wish to ride along....

But warm winds cool, and greenery, now tall,
Redresses to the brighter styles of Fall.

Here, vivid reds and lively oranges set trees afire.
Fanned by changing breezes, their leaves retire
And take flight and imitate the sounds of roaring seas...
Yet these wind-blown rainbows crumble with a squeeze.

Animals seek out food for future needs -
The nuts and treats of Nature's seeds.
There is magic in the wind and the sounds of motion -
A migration's begun, by land, sky, and ocean.

Soon comes the sounds of snow 'neith feet
And struggles 'gainst a Winter's sleep...

Here, whisking Winter winds push passing fowl by
While distant wolves bay their ancient cry
In the crispness of the moonlit night
Where a cow and calf rest out of sight.

And here, the silent drifts of frozen flakes
That clothes the woods and polish lakes
Cause crystal covered shrubs to pilot beams aglow,
And tell the tales of walkers in the snow.

Ice melts, drops soon flow...
From white-capped winter rims they'll go...
And round this cycle will repeat
Like life itself, in rhythmic beat