Seasons Poems | Poem About Seasons and Change

Length of days begins to wane, twilight quickens and moonlight obeys the seasonal call of nature. The time is half past summer, two months till fall and the warm splayed fingers of sunlight's heat are reaching for the zenith of their time to reign. Soon, night will darken earlier; stars appear brighter, and autumn's crisping days will wither crimson...

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Heat, like fog, engulfs the environment. Flora and fauna burn in the sunbeams. Clamminess-filled vapor goes virulent. Mirages glimmer like unending streams. Tempests brimming with dust and debris blow. Unquenchably thirsty, the parched lands crack. With abstract sky paintings, dry evenings glow. Thunder peals, on and off, like an earthquake. Days taunt. Nights haunt. We burn in the furnace. Sleeplessness and nightmares pervade our...

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seasonal clock-work has early and late comers wintering cold days in summer, hot days in spring inserting as breaks and spells...

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There are four seasons every year on earth. They are Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. The season now is like boiling water. This season is mostly good for the plants. Well, experts say that plants need much sunlight. All living things need sunlight to live too. It’s so hot, but need to get used to it. Oh, the sun! The sun! The...

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A new season comes Gorgeous and wonderful plants Snowdrops and new trees...

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the peak passes by, warm sun lowers its angle, long shadows appear, coolness creeps into the night, as strong sense of change begins....

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The seasons operate like Nature’s clocks: when winter solstice fades, we’re on the rise! Meridian’s behind us now (approx), so savour, while you can, those smiling skies: then buckle up! Here comes the equinox! ...

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Do not go gentle into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light —Dylan Thomas sunny outside, not cloudy inside; out of my mind, mindless wandering and wondering; fine - fooling myself? days tedious, no drums. no inkling of a violin, even to suffer with. May be smoking hot, but red skin is turning white. falling up, failing to feel sorry for oneself. calls limited to...

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Days too long for the sun to bite still hard, All trees bring forth leaves that are mostly green, Different hues are what summer fails to preen, With grace, yet with force, summer's hands bombard. Rain may catch even the prepared off guard, Its runoff sweeps paved roads fresh, clear and clean, Its grains and pebbles make the oceans glean, Yet...

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A leaf gently falls Time’s value and fickleness Its concise notice...

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pleading petals play gently in the sun whispering joy across the sticky skin summertime blessings cannot be outdone however, autumn is her next of kin praying roses and melancholic buds remembering our heart’s tender healing hanging in timeless ache of fair redbuds season’s bliss lifts shadows who’re concealing promising the night stars, moon and fireflies rousing such beauty the skies come to life only God...

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in the spring, when petals praise within the song of grace who’ll amaze beneath the silence of a gentle bud there is a power, power in the blood in the summer, when stories reveal hope so sacred, sacred enough to heal beyond the sun grows a life of wonder singing exultation in the raging thunder in the autumn, when leaves begin to weep there...

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Burning like fever in the spring our love affair was on the wing then drifted away on the summer wind now I'm thinking of you how good it used to be holding on to precious memories and every teardrop has a tale to tell every teardrop fills a wishing well changing like autumn leaves that fall your love it comes and goes then melts away...

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Matsuo Basho Haiku: English Translations of haiku about seasons, spring, rain, moon, flowers, blossoms, wind, river, etc. Blame the rainy season for my absence, old friend Moon. —Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch For yet a little while, the pale moon floating among blossoms... —Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Moon past full: darkness increasing. —Matsuo Basho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Spring rains so heavy they overflow...

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In January, the kaboom of fireworks Redefining glitter above us: What if The sky was pink, should purple rain besmirch us Yet, don a cheer for New Year. In February, the appearance of bouquets, cordate chocolates Many secret loves trespassing sticky notes Lovely nothings hang mid-air. In March, the hope of summer springing like anxious fledglings pushed off their perch Rain becomes wet...

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