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.