Seasons

Spring — a life anew Prodding rays of warming glow, sunshine. Crusted ice and snow slowly melting into trickling drops. First to bloom a crocus blue, a tulip tries to rise. How long the wait and freezing rain chilled the weary bones. Heat up and boil you spring sunshine the blue bell waits no more. A snowdrop jingles — a bird builds a twiggy nest Green grass fingers through the dirt so tender shoots they are. A blanket freshly sewn tickling worms in undergrowth. Kentucky, blue and weed. Blossoms on the cherry tree crown in glory tender flush. A petal pure; a hue of pink. Thank God you’re here to see the glow of apple pear and lilac tree. Summer — winter’s spouse she leaves Stop kissing my skin with such heat. Stop wetting my brow with such sweat. Stop cursing the sky with such blue. Stop scenting the air with such lush. How long have I waited for you to return by window and doorway I stood. Through autumn at dusk and cold winter at night. In spring you tormented my mind. Stop burning my skin deadly long rays. Stop wilting my hair with your heat. Stop making the nights so unbearably hot. Stop keeping the breeze for yourself. What joy was it when you left so quick? That chill rode in on a prickling frost. You tease me again on September days with reds and brown and yellows. Stop and come back quick! you hear. Stop leaving every year. Stop and kiss my skin again with freckles on your lip. Stop spinning round the earth and give it all to me. Autumn — death makes things regrow A leaf it flutters to the ground still green but given way. To something knocks but once a year the frost that kills each fall. The crunch of feet on frozen ground of eyes drink up the beauty. Of orange leaves and reds and browns and yellows in a mound. The rake comes out and gathers all heaps and giggles — hot cocoa. The scent of rotted wet and mould breathe deep and bottle up. Autumn is the death you see once green and grown above. We dread it knocking on the door yet rush to play without. Once Autumn leaves the doors we lock to keep the cold at bay. At night we light a light inside, strike match to hearth and hob. Winter Gosh it’s cold — my breath it speaks and frost clings to my lashes. I blink the snow is blinding me Yet out I go to see. My boots are cozy warm to tread, my toque, my scarf and mitts. I trample over ice and snow; my prints I leave behind. Cold finds a crack and shivers me. My spine it bends my neck down low. Gosh it’s beauty dazzles me — a snowflake tumbles down. so dainty — pretty — cut from glass made up in clouds and sky. I kiss it softly with my lip . It melts on skin and is just for me.