Kaukauna, WI USA
I happen to live where I have the experience,
Of all four seasons, four seasons in a year.
It is a big nuisance, quite a hinderance,
It's really not as lovely as it may appear.
Changes in temperature are to the extreme,
From Eskimo cold to very desertly hot.
And the fall and the spring which fall in between,
Are rainy and damp and muddy a lot.
But it is, when I am, remembering my youth,
The seasons have a different meaning to me.
I can remember once being a seasonal sleuth,
As every season had held it's own curiosity.
Spring, a new beginning, bright beauty all around,
New beginnings of Easter, nests of babies can be seen.
Beautiful bright wild flowers peaking through the ground,
Delightful sounds of mating, and trees turning green.
Soon it is summer, long days and warm nights.
Swimming holes and tanning in the warmth of the sun.
With fireflies flickering outside the campsite,
And the warm summer rains, left puddle splashing fun.
The strong winds of autumn I remember the most.
I'd stand up against the wind with arms stretched out,
Let the wind grab and fly me like a haunting ghost,
Or pick me up like a kite and tossing be about.
The wonders of the winter, tasting the snowflakes,
Trees all laced in beauty as the snow falls from above,
Sledding down the hills and gliding ice skates,
And those special Snow Angels made with tender love.
The four seasons of my youth I see differently today,
Under the demands and all the pressures of this world.
Maybe time should be taken to see life again that way,
To see through those eyes of love, which life it had impearled.