Inspired by The Human Seasons by John Keats
Four seasons fill a year’s fullness of time and fills the core of human shell and gourd - in that season of youth’s Spring balm its prime will reap the honied hive of years endured. And golden Summer so brightly spangled from whence its firstfruits cling the swollen vine, lest it not plucked lays withered and tangled only to fall a spoil buried in time. For circles of life ring the culling tree when Autumn its rich shedding off has cast - so begins the end, a fading glory in the long shadows of lusting days past. Winter too, when the cold hoary bark wets and the pale mortal sun upon us sets. Written: May 2011
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