The Four Seasons
When April with its bright showers shooting
The drought of March has pierced to its rooting
And bathed each vein in its refreshing ichor
With such sweetness engendered is the flower.
July feeds the ground with its life-giving rain
And with each drop do the crops energy gain
Until bathed and warmed by the sun's soft rays
The fields produce harvests full of rich praise.
October's cold rains wash the furrows clear
Covering the bare soil with crystal tears
Now without bright raiment it looks tired and down
Where once all was golden,now is there only brown.
With January the ground's wrapped in snow
A soft blanket conceals the dearth below
And beneath this shroud there stirs a vital spark
Soon to illuminate and banish the dark.
Copyright © Denis Bruce | Year Posted 2016
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