Seasons

 Seasons

Winter,
Perhaps the wisest of the four,
Tall and stately with her dark eyes and smooth brow,
Stands on her own.
She bears guilt for no one,
She has no sin for which to atone.

She is the master of patience, peace, and trust.
She relies on her past, only for her present.
She’s content, and no other season is her lust.                             

Spring,
Always ready for a laugh or trick,
Awakens with a mischievous grin.
She pulls a bouquet out
From underneath an icy sheet.
And never sees “late” as too late a time to begin.

Once she enters the world’s broad stage,
She carries on in a frolicking manner
However, her mischievous ways are
Always matched
With a surprising candor.

With her eyes wide with the wonder of life,
And with the help of a secret only she knows,
She dutifully bears the weight of all our hopes.
And her knowledge of reaping is what drives her to sow.

Summer,
With her golden hair and jewel green eyes
Enters and exits the stage in a blaze of glory.
She twirls and dances beneath the trees 
And at night sings sweetly and whispers starlight Stories.

Wild, carefree, and peaceful she gives us nothing less
Than her all.
She teaches us the joy of living
Through all things,
How to jump without fear,
And how to embrace the fall.

Autumn,
Full of grace and exceptional beauty,
Knows our cares and needs,
And to meet them as best she can,
Is her beloved duty.
With each unique and perfectly colored leaf,
She blesses our toils with Summer
And rewards us with a feast.

Her hazel eyes have watched over us
Ever since Spring’s unorthodox entrance.
And she knows how to see beauty in all things,
Even the beauty within Death’s secret.

She’ll kindly say goodbye
While her strong, sweet wind kisses our faces.
Her farewell brings us closer together,
And as we heed her lesson and look forward
To Winter’s celebration,
She’ll quietly make her exit.