The seasons, alas, are subject to a majestic evolution;
Unique since they take part in a compelling revolution.
They advance one upon the other with total disregard,
For the niceties of weather each season holds on guard.
We extol the enchantment of summer, fall, winter, spring;
We adjure the contentment that all of the seasons bring.
Spring rains, summer flowers, fall leaves, winter snow;
Each a unique form of blessing that the seasons bestow.
Imagine the sure chaos with summer frost and fall rains;
Imagine spring snows or the harvesting of winter grains.
We should consider ourselves lucky with chilly hoarfrost,
And the blessings implicit with spring’s glorious defrost.
Is there anyone who truly wants the taming of the seasons,
Ranting against their vices replete with blaming reasons?
The seasons bring change and that will never ever change;
Cold, hot, warm, chill, each season sets forth its unique range.
The seasons, like the hour, speak eloquently of temporality,
Just as the phases of the moon inspire thoughts of eternity.
Never try to rein in the seasons from their hallowed ground,
For you may find yourself facing a dilemma most profound.
Much is made of which season one prefers and I concede that as in all ways the matter is in the realm of personal likes/dislikes. But consider that each has its role to play in the life of the planet. We may never be able to harness the seasons but I submit that would be a good thing. After all, who wants the same ole same ole in all things?
Like Jane, I live in NE Ohio, and it's almost been the winter that wasn't. The ups and downs of temperatures has been crazy. We've also had very little snow this year. But still, as one season blends into another, it always seems like old man winter likes to hang around the longest.
it's like a try of producing an anti-bicycle or arranging the anti-painting exhibition. . . yes, a profound dilemma should appear immediately in front of us, but such an attempt, like this poem, is a wonderful try. Cheers, alex
Up here in N.E. Ohio, we have had 80 degree days this winter with the next day going down to 16 degrees. I miss the "true" seasons that used to be. My daffodils are blooming but due to extreme lows last night, I hope they haven't been destroyed. You speak of the seasons we used to have and I miss them so!! At least I can dream along with your beautiful words.
Eh . . . I still hat both the sizzling summer and the bone chilling winter. I believe we two seasons . . . Spring and fall would be right. I guess I hate extremes . . . Well, except for a bed pardner. Heh.Heh.
Each season has it's purpose, I feel very lucky to live in a zone where I get to see all four seasons. Each one is a gift from God above. Thank you for sharing this delightful seasonal poem. Have a great day John x
Explore the mystery of how nature makes unexpected gifts of creative wonders to an unsuspecting caregiver one late night and early morning in southeastern Georgia, USA.
Explore the mystery of how nature makes unexpected gifts of creative wonders to an unsuspecting caregiver one late night and early morning in southeastern Georgia, USA.
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Rebecca
Blessings to the fullest in nature's surprise.
Fine writing! Lady Mary Ann
Ron
Love ya!
Jane