Kelsey Griffin Poet Rhyme

The Ever-Changing Crown

The Ever-Changing Crown

A root that grips the turning world, 
A silent anchor, tightly curled, 
Supports a truth both somber and clear: 
The life and death of every year.
A realm of silvered Winter, 
Where boughs are stark, a frozen splinter, 
The grey sky hangs, a promise kept, 
That life beneath has merely slept.
Then, bursting forth, a blush of Spring,
The cherry bough begins to sing, 
With clouds of petals, soft and pink, 
A hopeful dream upon the brink.
Next, a heart of sun-drenched Summer, 
A canopy of vivid comer. 
The leaves are lush, a fortress green, 
The shade a cool, majestic screen.
And where the vibrant curtain falls, 
The bronze and scarlet Autumn calls, 
With gold and russet, fire-kissed hues, 
A final glory the tree renews.
Though separate seasons frame the sight, 
One single spirit burns so bright. 
It wears all gowns, from snow to flame, 
And knows the seasons by their name. 
A living clock, a steady sign, 
Of passing time, and art divine.

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