Heaven has no extreme weather.
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Autumn, Spring

All men, dutiful,
know life’s beautiful.
Each moment serene
is but one time seen …
then looses its’ sheen.

Wonderous, sublime,
all things are divine.
Nature needs to rest
to keep things their best;
snow … a protective vest.

Heaven’s autumn, spring—
ne’er too cold, scorching—
everything just right.
Night succumbs to light,
pastels feast our sight.

Leaves bloom just to fall
for the wonder of it all.
Flowers—fresh or dry—
in glory shalln’t die.
No sorrow, don’t cry.

People mingle there;
here we’re doomed to try.
Paradise is home.
Only angels roam
in that righteous zone.