As summer's heat gently retreats
Long hours of sun to reduced days
Foggy mists create a haze
Nature marches to new beats
We don't want vacay fun to leave
Jumps into pools, the sand, the beach
Soon, solemnly, just out of reach
The Earth's rotation, changes weave
As painted by some brilliant brush
Hues of royalty displayed
In piles of color children played
Autumn linger, please don't rush
Squirrels in the branches rustling the leaves,
Scurrying up the trunks of the horse-chestnut trees,
Lightly dancing through autumn’s browning shroud,
From branch to branch, thin branches bowed.
Hunting through the leaf litter, gathering the nuts,
Through the furrows, ditches and cuts,
Head on a swivel, survival’s a must,
Autumn’s bountiful harvest banked in trust.
The cycle of life roaring against the age,
Before winter arrives with its icy cold cage,
Transforming the landscape, hiding the bank,
Its fingers grasping, tugging the veil.
Where once existed deep reds, yellows and browns,
White has taken over and frosted the ground.
Many will live but others will perish,
Before springtide appears and winter is vanquished.
New life arrives in bitter green shoots,
And once again scuttling come reds and greys,
The gnawing, the nibbling, the reconnaissance of trees,
The cycle repeats as seasons march on.
S epia tones soon will turn to green
P romising their panoply of renewal
R andom blossomings perfuming the air
I ncremental offerings of nature's bounty
N orthern winds averted and rerouted
G iddy birds and bees punch drunk excited
F arewell to stubborn winter lingerings
E ffervescence bubbling to the surface
V eers toward a budding season of awakenings
E mbellishing a drowsy world with vivid colours
R uby coloured blooms shortly underway
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Life is your harvest
purplepeninportland
The combine drones in the field
gathering corn planted in spring.
The father holds the wheel—
his son pulls the wagon
to take the corn—
efforts measured
by what they yield.
The father bears his years,
his love for family and farm.
Branches of trees dance in winds,
a day of winter they will bring
silent moments under a cover of snow
reflections of sun as the year passes
over his spread of land as it rests.
Will you linger with me when July graces
the spring- dew of my breath
hailing the glow of spring's flowering?
How about the end of summer wind gliding
on ember of hope burned
by the heat of season's nights?
And come bitter November,
would your hands cuddle mine
in withered age when flakes wheeze
of a hundred vague symphonies ...
except for unsolicited embraces
ready to enfold you when
winter candles wax the torpid kiln of infallibility--
If so then lead me on, on...
while autumn spirals through
pensive intervals more frequent
than the drift of upturned leaves in a space
of unknowing-- how much more
can the eternity of seasons etch
the piercing trance of time's flames
courting moonlight's evanescence
where forever is but destiny's kismet, not ours ?
Tell me about ever after...my seasons
are hungry again.
~
1st place
Hush in the daylight,
Tranquil in the night,
Time colours the sky,
Different portraits,
Different seasons,
So is my journey.
October 1, 2026,
Nette Onclaud,
Color My World Poetry Contest.
In my physical world on this planet Earth
Existing in the Northern Hemisphere
I see the beauty of four seasons pass
Like Winter's white, the pastel Spring reborn
Then Summer's vibrant blooms and varied greens
Give in to Autumn's spree of red and golds
I smell the brisk cold air of Winter days
And scents of soup and stew complete the joy
Yet come the Spring, the air is filled with balm
That summer blooms fulfill with perfumed air
To shift the cycle soon to Autumn's bliss
with smells of warm fruit pies and burning leaves
Oh yes, touched by the sting of Winter air
the icy cold of wind and snow outdoors.
And then by Spring's warm breeze that renews hope
To soon feel Summer's balm of beach and pool
Make ready for the cooling Autumn days
To feel the warmth of bonfires once again
I hear the Winter winds that blizzards howl
The steady April rains that nurture Spring
The booming thunderstorms of Summer's fling
And Autumn's sounds of harvest in the fields
Thankful for senses as these seasons fill
My blest physical world on this planet Earth
The light is changing now
Rays of the sun have begun to whisper to the bronzing earth
I Listen and look inward bracing my heart for the turn
The Darkness is palpable watching shadows become tangible things in the coolness of evening
my longing lying over me like a shroud ,
as the day surrenders to the night
When I see a flower start to pose.
I start to open my nose.
The fall air is wispy with webs and such.
Then the flower turns its head, it doesn’t take much.
With leaves leaving piles to rake on the lawn.
You would think a small flower would be buried by dawn!
But autumn flowers seem to grow just enough.
So that even when the gravel and footprints get rough.
That they poke out of the patterned ground.
Blue petals to be found.
When I see a flower say “suppose?”
I wonder if a beanstalk has toes.
And fall sleep in the blooms and leaves.
Wondering about All Hallows’ Eve.
brightest bulb shining
highlights trees with chill and dew ~
cold lemon canvas
(September Full Moon – Assiniboine)
Silent and colder
November is grey
dying leaves fall down
summer shades fading
grey branches sharpen
mixed leaf mounds sparkle
Contest: Color My World
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Prompt: Morning Pearl
Written¨ for contest: 092726 8:06PMCST
Upon the first step out of my front door,
In the language of the Fall season, the
Voices of gentle breezes began speaking
To me. A simmering relief from the summer's
Heat was flowing in cool and refreshing musical tones.
Yes, it was the second day of Autumn after a
Long and unforgettable nationwide hot summer.
Yes, I could tell that the sun was going to shine,
But not as bright and in much tamer waves.
I saw no dismal tones nor feels of grey.
I saw no deceptive looks of tangerine.
It appeared at least in my area of the earth,
That heaven spoke and summer complied.
Yes, heaven had painted and displayed a
Gorgeous day and called it, "Morning Pearl".
Transition
There is a small window of time
when September’s sun-fired air
must welcome and share
the apple-crisp breath
of imminent October
we soak up the last of
a summer-season palette
and invite the autumn blend
skin delights under a shawl of
warm, then cool, warm, cool
flirty swimsuits sag sadly
heading back to their winter stations
bright sweaters emerge
flailing their arms in jubilation
perennials get a fresh winter cut
annuals hold on to life as long as possible
the yellow spider spins her web
proudly attaching herself to
everything on the deck.
one can only smile when waking up
to an outrageously gorgeous morning.
Long.the mist had swaddled the woods
In rails of crystal white and gray -
Till dusk swiveled like a fleeting view:
Vanishing with the threadlike view
Oak treelines stood quiet along old woods ;
Of edges rough in deepened gray;
Trickles changed into ghastly gray
To usher winter's skeletal view ,
Pale nightglow pouring 'round bare woods.
Woods in gray...enshrouded by this blank view.
The earliest spring begins to start,
As the final winter plays its part.
Perhaps the very journey's end of our brief days,
Where God denies death in a quiet maze.
Weaving through countless summers, autumn's grace,
Painting our lives across time and space
Into a watercolor, rich and deep,
Where all our painted colors wake and sleep.
We meet each other, souls of every kind—
Bright hues that leave our dancing feet unbound,
While darker shades sometimes conspire to throw
A deeper shadow where our spirits go.
Yet all the while, we fail to see
That light and dark were meant to be
No parting signs of bitter grief and pain,
But petals blooming in the sun and rain.
At last, the chilling winter makes its stand,
The final journey falling close at hand.
With God's last holy touch, a grand design—
The watercolor's masterpiece divine.
Before the Maker, wearing spring's first dress,
I stand stripped bare of winter's weariness,
And take off now, when all is said and done,
The final winter garment under the sun.
Seasons Categories
Read wonderful seasons poetry on the following sub-topics:
acrostic, autumn, changing, come to pass, fall, greetings, haiku, holiday, nature, of life, rainy, spring, summer, winter,
and more.
Definition | What is Seasons in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
summer, fall, period, winter, interval, spring, spell, autumn, enliven, mature, climate,