Quatrain Seasons Poems | Quatrain Poems About Seasons

These Quatrain Seasons poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Seasons. These are the best examples of Quatrain Seasons poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

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Christmas Magic

The magic came to Christmas Day when shepherds first were told, When wise men brought their frankincense, their myrrh and gifts of gold, When heaven opened wide its gates and angels came to sing; For in a manger on the hay, lay Christ, the newborn king. I found it first at Grandma's house, so many years ago, When she prepared her Christmas treats and Grandpa seemed to glow. The house was full of warmth and love, so sweet, so pure and real; And what I cherish most of all, that Christmas magic feel. It's in the music, on the air; just turn the dial to find Inspiring songs that sing of peace, goodwill to all mankind. They sing their praises unto God and spread their Christmas cheer, And everywhere the songs are sung, they find an opened ear. Its clamor, sparkle, warmth and hope, of which we try to write In pretty lines of words and rhymes that never sound just right, Can best be seen in children's eyes when they awake to see What Santa Claus has brought and placed beneath the lighted tree. The magic feel returns each year with warmth on coolish nights, With memories steeped in seasons passed, in songs and blinking lights, At Grandma's house, her Christmas treats, aromas rich and spiced; To recognize the best in man, and honor Jesus Christ.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009

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October Brings No Rest For These

Emerald etchings are given birth 
to bask their lives in summer's sun, 
until brushing brutal winters cheek, 
They cower yellow; brown undone. 
Swirling down onto concrete pyres, 
They somersault to a random grave. 
The earth lays claim to copper corpses 
But the winter wind is a cunning knave. 
It finds and flips the fallen fibers, 
then flings them crisply to the street. 
The failing sheaves of burnt magenta, 
tossed like chaff from harvest wheat. 
Now strewn about with playful malice, 
and denied the resting place they crave, 
for the golden sun is a glint of amber, 
but the winter wind is a chilling knave.

Copyright © Gerard Keogh | Year Posted 2006

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Give Me Spring

Take away my static hair,
My thick, wool toque, my glassy eyes.
Take away the chilly air,
The endless clouds, the covered skies.

Give me back my sun-streaked hair,
My floppy hat, my shaded eyes. 
Give me back the sea-salt air,
The fluffy clouds, the crystal skies. 

Take away my dull, dry skin,
My soggy mitts, my booted feet.
Take away the frosty wind,
The icy paths, the slushy streets.

Give me back my sun-tanned skin,
My denim shorts, my flip-flop feet.
Give me back the toasty wind,
The sparkling dunes, the sandy streets.

Take away harsh Winter's sting, 
His gales of hail, his banks of snow.
Give me back my darling Spring,
Her rising sun, her lovely glow.

Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013

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A Song of Seasons

I sing a song of springtime.
The earth is green and fair.
Life comes again with scent of rain,
and love is in the air.

I sing a song of summer.
The sun is climbing high.
We laugh and run and have such fun.
How blue becomes the sky!

I sing a song of autumn.
Trees wear their brightest gown.
It’s trick or treat, then bittersweet
as leaves are falling down.

I sing a song of winter.
I sing it soft and low.
The days grow dark and short, but hark!
We bask in Yuletide’s glow!

Written April 5, 2016 for the Seasons Contest of Shadow Hamilton

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Winter Footprints

I stopped just once to look back..
And saw my tracks across the snow.
Steps upon that pure white blanket,
Wishing I’d found another way to go.

Already though, in gentle downy flakes,
Nature began to fill those intruding marks.
And return the gentle winter splendor
To that serene and lovely woodland park.

The sun was sinking to its rest,
Leaving its sparkle on the forest floor.
I smiled and turned for home again…
My tired heart at peace once more

Inspired by Robert Frost

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2009

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Let Me Go

You have caged me for too long
I want you to just let me go,
I have to spread these feathered wings
I need to feel the wind's blow.

You know that I love you truly
I said that I would never leave,
I want to see the rain's dance
Not just sit here and perceive.

The scene never changes, day after day
I want to go where white roses bloom,
I have never seen an ocean's wave
And neither have you, I assume.

I need to see the autumn tree's change
I want to see the snowflake's glisten,
I am wishing on the stars as they fall
This is my dream, so please just listen.

I want to fly in the sky's blue
I need to feel the sun's burn,
When I have experienced these wonders
I promise that I will return.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

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Statuary Gray

White overpowers winter’s array
and you fear color will never show. 
For blanketed within a bland duvet
depression deepens like falling snow.

Skeletal trees form sculptures of clay
their edges defined by a sharp breeze.
And stenciled a statuary gray,
branches like fragmented fingers freeze.

The frigid air wrestles your breath away
accompanied by unyielding cold.
And muting the sound of children’s play
melancholy thoughts strengthen their hold.

Deepening pot holes cause nerves to fray
and anger broods within shadows cast.
For folks speculate on spring's delay
dashing hopes that this weather won’t last.

Purple and scarlet tint the sun’s rays
yet sunset chills you to the bone.
For when dusk dims on such dreary days
you feel abandoned and all alone.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

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Seasons End

In spring he complained
It was always way to wet
The sound of chirping birds 
Would make him get upset

He thought summer is drier
But when summer came it was hot
It was a far far worse season
At least that's what he thought

Perhaps he'd prefer the autumn
Cooler air and shorter days
Still the problem with autumn
Is that autumn rarely stays

Soon winter was upon him
He could feel it within his bones
Buried deep beneath the ground
They covered his grave with stones

For him the seasons were a problem
He wasted away all his days
What was gifted was extraordinary
Yet it never met with any praise!

Written April 7th 2016
For Shadow's Seasons Contest.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

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The Seasons of Love

Oh, love in spring, you’re peridot, and new’s the grass; with dew - aglow! On clovered knoll ourselves we fling. You’re peridot, oh love in spring! In summer’s sun, love blazes red, and to the dune at dusk we’re led neath cobalt sky that’s crimson spun. Love blazes red in summer’s sun. When fall arrives, our hues change oft. Like leaves through winds of life we waft. Then comes the chill, but love still thrives. Our hues change oft when fall arrives. When snow descends, we’re changed to white, the color of reflected light. And though we die, pure love transcends. We’re changed to white when snow descends. March 25, 2014/ For the Dabbling in Poetry Forms Contest of gautami phookan

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014

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SEPTEMBER BRIDES ` ` , ,,,, ,` `` ```,,,,,, ,````` magenta boughs sheer as bridal lace adorn mid summer-time trees they flutter like acrylic confetti glazed, and scattered on rapturous breeze Botticelli petals drift like scarlet flakes down to gather round pastoral feet, their fragrance fills September’s gown with brushstrokes so apricot sweet bridal trees alight as beguiling mists all clad in sultry glow’s array awoken by a waft of groom's kiss on this, God’s first September day... --------------------- quatrain © all rights reserved Especially for Brian’s September By nette onclaud

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2011

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Do You Hear What I Hear

Hail beats against the window,
Wind howls on without remorse.
Do you hear what I hear?
Winter's voice is blithely hoarse.  
Trees are glazed with icing snow, 
Panes are veiled with frosted lace. 
Do you see what I see?
Winter's face is full of grace.

Pine pours spice into the air,
Ginger floats in gentle wafts.  
Do you smell what I smell?
Winter's perfume - fresh and soft.

The hearth is bright with fire.  
The chilly night brews up a storm.  
Do you feel what I feel?
My darling keeps me safe and warm. 

Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2012

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      When the Season turns and Old Winter spent,

      Sudden colour blossoms on budding trees.

      The daffodil blooms and young Spring’s sweet scent

      Is gentle carried on the evening breeze.

      Fast changing period of restless mood,

      Faltering sun and uncertain showers.

      Sleeping souls wake from Winter solitude

      Aroused by Spring’s lengthening daylight hours.

     Migrating birds return on sun warmed wings,

     By shaded woodland the yellow primrose 

     Blooms. Nights shorten and the first Cuckoo sings

     And all around Nature’s industry grows.

     Barry Stebbings

Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2017

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Days of Summer

There comes the time when spring has run its course And summer days lay heavily on the land When eager steps have slowed to garner strength The stream runs slowly as if in reprimand Summer's wealth oozes like honey from a comb Horizon stark, not a cloud to soften the sky Evening settles round like a golden cloak And life seems slower as summer slips on by

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2012

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Oh to be that Butterfly

It's now the heart of the summer
Perched on parched, I on this leaf
Rains are forever cried for
To moisten and rid earths grief

Suddenly I hear a rustling
Corn stalks bend and sway
A creature just so beautiful
Allures these words I say

As I talk I feel their excitement
Describing this beauty so fair
Porcelain skin she is
With shoulder length blonde hair

Curvaceous now shows as she bares
As the sky mimics her eyes
Azure blues capture my thoughts
Whilst the clouds begin to cry

A light shower falls
Cobb's become pert at attention
Words described through my eyes
My thoughts in quiet mention

To a filling creek she walks
Slowly immersed in natures champagne
As the heavens caress her body
Translucent pure virginal rains

Her hands caress her body
Blonde hair, now a wetted mane
Droplets run down her curves
I, a Butterfly, in distant frame


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

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Autumn Sensations

Colorful symphonies sound
As red and gold bells fall down,
Shook loose by crisp cool air,
Tinkling their way to the ground.

Displayed on the limbs of trees
Are rich orange marmalade leaves,
Visions of autumn’s dessert
Tasting sweetly upon the breeze.

Autumn brews warm concoctions 
With auras of perfection
And richly spiced aromas, 
Which soothe our frayed emotions.

Fall’s festive nature brings out
A spirited dancing shout
And lovely celebrations
With beauty bursting about.

©   08-16-2012
For: Autumn's Beauty Contest

Copyright © Tanya Harrington | Year Posted 2012

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                                  THE SEASONS OF MY LIFE

In the Spring time I was blossoming,
The world was bright and new.
I learned to laugh annd cry and fight,
For what I knew was true.

That there`s a time to have your fun,
And there`s a time for work,
A time when we must learn to earn,
And value all life`s perks.

In Summer time I learned of life,
Of people and the world.
I learned that life`s a mixture,
Of experience, a whirl,

That sometimes life moves way too fast,
It should be sipped and savored,
Or else it plays out way too soon,
And loses all it`s flavor.

In Fall I learned acceptance,
That what must be will be.
It does no good to fuss and fret,
`Bout what was denied me;

For some it seems are richly blessed,
While others get the crumbs,
Who gets what is up to God,
From Whom all good things come.

Now Winter fast approaches,
And what`s important now,
Is what memories I`ll leave behind,
Who remembers me, --- and how.

                                                   Judy Ball

For At This Age Contest by Nette Onclaud

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2011

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Fall at Wenatchee River

Autumn clouds drift over the Wenatchee River
Changing from blue to a metallic silver
I walk it's shores as the greying breaks
As it captures ochres and greens in reflection shapes

Translucent ripples in undulation dance
Insects skim the waves with their life they chance
Trout break the surface to share my view
If I am the first man to be here, what a debut

Ancient rock from a long ago past
Scatters it's slopes in sporadic cast
Stones and boulders of all shapes in sizes
Carpet this podium like neolithic prizes

I go back to my canoe, the way out I came in
A Scotsman leaves humbled in his skeletal skin
To be here for this moment brings a tear to my eye
As I turn my head and look back, reminds me why


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

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Winter Weather

Winter winds seem angry this morning...
Pulling at the branches, teasing the last leaves
My song is quickly swept away, my voice scatters
The last of the brown meadow grass dances...

The weather is changeable this time of year....
Pink tinged skies quickly spread across the horizon
My step hurries home, I pull my coat closer
Wanting to rest by the fire, and listen to winter.

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2011

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Songs of the Seasons- A Collaboration with Heidi Sands

 Spring has fragrant blossoms to reap
 And as it awakens from slumber deep
 Spring sings of blooms and life anew
 And butterflies and skies of blue

 Summer sings of sun and sand
 Of ice cream cones and getting tanned
 Of beautiful sunsets that delight
 Of moonlit walks on sultry nights

 It is in these moonlit walks I take
 Crystalline steps with wishes I make
 That started with Spring's new beginning
 My heart just keeps on singing

 Let there be peace, sunrise to sunset
 In a butterfly's flight to things unseen yet
 Let sweet ice cream tasted in every flavor
 Blend into memories at warm beaches to savor

 For autumn's song will soon take hold
 With rustling leaves of red and gold
 Soon the trees will have no melody to share
 For autumn's song will leave them bare

 Until snow spreads like an angel's wings
 Lining tree branches with glistening white
 Softly, my heart continues to sing
 In the silence of snow, falling into the night
My deepest thanks and appreciation to Heidi for sharing
 her poetic voice. Heidi it has been a pleasure working with you.

Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2017

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The moon, pausing near her zenith,
On that balmy night in May,
Painted a warm, nocturnal landscape, 
In varying shades gray.

A mockingbird insomniac,
With golden harp did play,
And serenade his lady love
With songs as bright as day.

A shy, retiring whip-poor-will
In some hidden, forest swale,
Intoned his lonely-heart refrain, 
In a melancholy wail. 

The gentle breeze, that washed my face,
Tasted honeysuckle sweet,
While silver dewdrops glistened,
On the grass beneath my feet.

Though my magic, childhood years have gone
On frightened wings of flight,
I treasure, in my reverie,
That enchanted full moon night.

Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2005

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Blowing in the Wind

 A whispering wind on an autumn day
 Calls to the leaves to come out and play
 Like birds of a feather they release from the trees
 Taking flight in the sky so free

 A cold wind blows on a winter day
 And calls for the snow to come out and play
 They swirl and they twirl and pirouette 
 With a beauty that's hard to forget
 A warm wind blows on a summer day
 And calls for butterflies to come out and play
 They flutter and float and dance in the breeze
 And alight on flowers with nectar to please

 A cool wind blows on a day in spring
 As questions of love on the blooms are pinned
 Forget-me-not wishes, what will they bring?
 'The answer is blowing in the wind'

Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2017

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The flowers are blooming
along with the trees
and the sweet smell of blossoms
are blown in the breeze

The warm winds that blow
shake the new little leaves
where the ice and the snow
once had their freeze

It's Springtime again
and its beauty is grand
though it may not remain
long o're this land

But while it is here
it awakens the earth
giving winters cold deadness
a glorious rebirth

Be happy my friends
and sing with great cheer!
Let all hearts be thankful
for Springtime is here!

Written Spring 1978

Copyright © Robin L. Gass | Year Posted 2009

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On Grandma's Farm

There's an antique red barn
Sits atop the hill
And a small little pond
Chock full of blue-gill 

There's old rusty cars
Which haven't ran in years
And a hundred year old house
Once manufactured by Sears
It's loaded full of memories
It's filled with lots of charm
It's a place I know and Love
It's all there...On Grandma's Farm

Used to go there every Sunday
From as far back as I can remember
Sledding down the hill
In the snow come December

I Loved it out at Grandmas
Playing with toy tractors in the sand
Going to help split wood
Just to lend a helping hand

I Loved it winter, spring and summer
But my favorite time of all
Was when the leaves all turned
The wonderful colors of fall

I was carefree and happy
The world was free from harm
Way back when I was a kid
Out On My Grandma's Farm

© 2011 Kevin Stock

Copyright © Kevin Stock | Year Posted 2011

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Memories on Branches

The sapling was planted in the spring When my grandparents first settled this land Generations of a family their seed would bring Working together hand in hand To its branches were tied a tire swing On which grandchildren, in the summer, played Underneath, a picnic spread we’d bring While resting in her familiar shade The pile of leaves that autumn fell Stuffed scarecrows out in the fields Through her branches you could hear the fall winds yell A bonfire, from waste, she watched us build Now beside her have sprung a few gravestones That winter snows cover in peace How her branches of memories have grown The top ones remembered, not the least

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2014

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Christmas Tree

Oh the Christmas tree
standing ever stout.
Hear the children’s glee
when they search you out. 

In the wood you stand
evergreen crisp spice.
Branches stretch; expand
beauty to entice.

Atop star will shine
for shepherds to see.
Telling birth divine  
guiding wise men three.

Oh the Christmas tree 
with arms spread real wide.
Lovely sight you’ll be
when you’re brought inside.

Copyright © 2008 By Caryl S. Muzzey

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2011

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Winter Solstice

So long ago, you might recall,
when winter's shroud of dark would fall
each ritual eased the Celtic mind
to mark the sun's reversal trend

When winter's shroud of dark would fall
fresh woven wreaths adorned each door
A yule log burned, and it was clear
with smoke there rose a new frontier

Each ritual eased the Celtic mind
with many ways to celebrate
Pagans danced with woven crowns
Sun's ebbing presence dwindled down

To mark the sun's reversal trend
folks pressed red apples to the core
Then drank it spiced, to offer toasts
which we have done, forevermore


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

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Spring Like the Phoenix

Spring, like the Phoenix, rises from the ash of winter's fire,
when ice and snow from frozen row were logs upon its pyre.
The thaw will trickle moisture to each niche upon the earth.
The liquid flame of water means a season of rebirth.

The Phoenix lived for centuries while the seasons are our place.
Our lives in hastened, fleeting years meets death once, face to face.
So, when the waters grant new life our world takes on the sheen
of bold and brilliant color showing forth so fresh and keen.

Bright summer knows the vigor of each green and living thing:
the creatures, all that walk or crawl, or soar upon the wing.
Bold seasons see the great bird's crest as lustrous, bright and gold,
but as the seasons cool and dry the Phoenix grows so old.

His colors are still vivid for the shortened days of fall,
but slowly piling twigs and leaves he readies for his pall.
The harvest gleaned, cold holds dominion 'oer the late fall air,
a sallow, aging, Phoenix seeks in earnest for his lair.

The long and dormant winter binds all life within its chill.
The once quite vibrant Phoenix lies upon death's pyre, so still.
We long to see the Sun shine bright and wake our frozen earth,
its fire means like the Phoenix we experience rebirth.

                                               Spring, Like the Phoenix
                                               Iambic Heptameter

Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015

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Cold River Run

Cold river run, November morn,
past village sleeping, day yet born.
Dark, murky waters pass the quay
absorb each sound along the way.

An ice-cold flow that numbs like death.
Those passing see white, misty breath.
Though laced with ice its soul must flow
to seek out deltas wide and slow.

Late fall has seen harsh wind and flake.
Cold river knows it's autumn's wake.
It drifts past field and icy glen,
and speaks the season's last, 'amen.'

Long past our village, down its course,
cold river warms without remorse.
It knows new waters meld upstream,
to speak November's frigid theme.

                        Cold River Run

Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015

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Apple Pickin' Time

Pick those crisp, red McIntoshs, 
And warm some caramel for dippin',
Pick those green Granny Smiths,
And heat some cider for sippin'.

It's time for apple pickin',
Down on the rural farm,
And Halloween treat or trickin',
With some rustic country charm.

From the beginning of September,
To the last day of November,
We will be gone apple pickin',
Makin' fun moments to remember.

Pick those crisp, red McIntoshs,
And warm some caramel for dippin',
Pick those green Granny Smiths,
And heat some cider for sippin'.

None of you will be sobbin',
Cause right before your eyes,
There's a game of apple bobbin',
And some homemade apple pies.

Written for Isaiah Zerbst's contest -  
"Apple Pickin' Time"

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013