Seasons
I would not want to live in a place
Where seasons do not habitate
To spread the wondrous magic of
Their ever-changing fickle face.
In jest one may make comment
When the climate is in perfect pitch,
“Oh, if only it could be like this
The whole year round, it would be bliss.”
But foolish words are often uttered
And selfish thoughts prevail until
The parts and sum are reconciled
And truth is finally revealed.
The bitter bite of winter’s teeth
Not so hard to endure when
The knowledge of rekindled birth
Lies waiting in the springtime rain.
A burst of blossoms greening earth
Reviving all the hope of youth,
Mellowing into the truth that
Ages into summer wine.
And summer passes into autumn
As her leaves begin to fall
In triple-glorious profusion,
Nature’s pallet filled with awe.
Let me live in hemispheres where
Angels tilt the fragile scale,
Where light is dark and dark is light
And seasons can prevail.
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