An Unending Story
The first robins of Spring, a joy to see,
Their song, a pastoral symphony,
But brace for stormy winds and wild March skies,
Then add more birds, and bees, and butterflies,
And sunsets, and dawns, and garden flowers,
And torrential floods and gentle showers.
With its perfumed wine so potent and sweet
Summer's debauches are raucous, but fleet.
Trees tremble and blush in Fall's altered air
And hang scarlet adornments in their hair.
Then envious Winter puts on her show,
Enshrouds it all in a blanket of snow.
So seasons endure above and beneath,
An unending story of life and death.
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