Seasons

In the SPRINGTIME when the frost has fled,
The ground becomes a feasting place for life
And fertile seeds in secret spring awake,
Bursting slowly from their hidden tombs
While being somehow nourished, blessed, and fed
By springtime’s cornucopia of grace.
Life is lush and green with hope and growth.
The ground itself turns green and skies are blue
When spring brings on the salad-time of life.
 
In the SUMMER’S liquid heat the seeds
Are magically transformed as suns enrich
And rains enhance what life’s prospective dares.
Lanky green and springing tall and strong
The plants transform the landscape with their strength
And turn to jungle what was desert waste.
Life itself these grasslands renovate
To change the very space in which life thrives,
Through strength, and growth, and bold maturity.
 
In the FALL the seeds have borne more seeds
When sun, and rain, and drought have dried the stalks
And death must seem to linger nearer still.
Age has changed the leaves to brittle fronds.
The hardy stalks have lifted up their grain,
A sacrifice, as nature needs, to life.
Golden, bleached with age, the harvest comes.
A scythe cuts down the ripened staff of life
And brings an end to storm, and fear, and strife.
 
In the WINTER life has lost its grip,
It seems, and once again the ground is bare
And even seeds seem dead, encased in hulls.
Strength is sapped from life and only storms
Are strong where ice is queen and darkness king.
And so, the seeds must seem to die each year.
In the wintertime of life, there’s life
Remaining, hidden for a season’s span
Until the seeds have spent their time at rest.