The Meeting of Seasons

Summer speaks: “O wandering Wind, why do you sigh so soon? My sunny days are not yet through. Must you come with dry and falling leaves To cool my fire, my joy, my golden hue?” Autumn replies: “Dear friend, I do not come to take, but to change— To wrap your songs in softer light. Your warmth has shone so strong, so long, But now the world asks for rest, for night.” Summer protests: “See how the mangoes still drip with sweet, How the koel sings from tree to tree! Must all my bright and happy hours fade? Must I now bow and give in to thee?” Autumn answers softly: “I only paint your last goodbye— I touch your skies with calm and peace. The fields you warmed now glow with grain, And your last storm’s tear finds gentle release.” A silence falls. The sky is still. The tamarind trees don’t sway. Then Summer smiles, and drops a single flame: “Go on, dear sister, sing your lullabies… But tell sweet Spring—I called her name.”