Seasons To Wonder

All the evergreens are greener And the pines are darker skinned Only leaves that bear the burn marks Are the witnesses of wind. On the grass the dew is frozen In a spiders web of white And the cold that bites my fingers Makes me wonder as I write. How did winter come so swiftly How did summer die so fast Where’s the grave, where was the battle Are they all buried in the past? Now I feel the winter nibble On my fingers with its frost And the wind that it has summoned Mourns for seasons that are lost. Was it but one dusk, one daybreak Was it only in a blink? For the summer was my feather Now the winter is my ink. How did shadows shift so quickly How did colours change so much As reflections in the water That simply vanish with a touch? Now the daffodils are rising Yet the jasmine blooms are gone Now the evergreens are greener And the frost adorns the dawn. Yes, how strange it is to wonder So I wonder as I write What if winter should then also Simply vanish in the night? I dedicate this poem (and I'm not being sarcastic or exaggerating) to my mentor and my friend Timothy Brumley, who taught me the art of rhythm, showed me the advantage of counting my syllables, raised my goal from acceptable to perfection, and helped me to turn my nursery rhymes into poetry. (and no Tim don’t protest, they really were nursery rhymes)