The Four Seasons


Each of the seasons has its reasons
To rid yourself of nature's beauty,
Of God's hand, would equate to treason
No artist placidly articulates
Each of the season's magnificent traits
Freedom rings for all the things that spring will bring
Hibernation ends, birds fly north,
And the melting snow is lingering
Plants reemerge and flowers bud proving nature's bountiful love
And the endless limits that our creator is capable of
Frequently in the summer I do wonder if temperatures will drop under
Fifty degrees to my displease surpassed with ease a summer breeze
Which leads to fall that most of all
Creates an amazing feeling for all to recall
When we remember days in September
And the bright orange skies mimicking temperate embers
To watch all the trees shed their leaves
That winds carry away like plundering thieves
And finally winter begins on the solstice the twenty-first
My annual longing for this season is the worst
Nostalgia seeps in fast from winters passed
For consecutive years I have prayed that it would last
So now you can see quite easily
What all four seasons mean to me
Love Mother Earth for all she is worth
Every blade of grass and each piece of dirt

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem