The Four Seasons
The four seasons come and go at the same time every year,
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, in due course they all appear,
Summer is quite near at hand when the sun will burn like fire,
Soon a shady spot Iíll seek as the temperature rises higher.
As hot days slowly multiply in this record breaking long dry spell
With no relief in sight, the air is a breath from the ovens of hell,
For thirteen weeks as seasons pass the heat of summer reigns on high,
But then the time it comes at last when rain clouds cross the sky.
Summer now has run its course and soon showers turn to rain,
Hopefully more will come to follow on now that Autumns here again,
Then slowly as the heat recedes in the sunís daily diminishing glow,
Beneath all the deciduous trees the leaves fall down like snow.
Thereís red and bronze and yellow and brown, in a carpet soft they lay,
The wealth of colour never cease to astound on a beautiful Autumn day,
Autumn arrives at summerís end where perfect days turn into weeks
And even though the leaves descend, of beauty too it speaks.
But around the corner Winter waits as Autumn days grow short,
Darkening clouds is a sign that states that warm places soon be sort,
The deciduous trees have lost their leaves & now are stark and bare,
The warmth that weíve all enjoyed is replaced by chilling sharp cold air.
Sitting warm before a cozy fire while outside the weather wreaks itís ire
And you look forward to the day when temperatures will rise higher,
Then comes the day when spirits rise & you dream of a perfect day
And as the wind and rain subside can Spring be far away.
A pink glow in the East shows another new day will arrive
And when all the birds start to sing it makes you glad you are alive,
For at last Spring has arrived with a real warmth in the air
And beautiful flowers will appear thatíll make you stop& stare.
Tiny buds will expand every day till hundreds on each plant adorn,
Then open up in a brilliant display to a colorful new world newly born,
Spring is the season for living and love & horizons gilded in gold,
Exemplified by the call of a dove & of feelings quite rampant & bold.
Thereís no other season however sublime where memory of youth seems to cling,
More vivid and brilliant in the passing of time than in the season we all know as Spring.