A Poem: Seasons

By Craig: Here is a little poem that I wrote a number of years ago. In fact, 23 years to be exact. I found it in a little book of poems all written in pencil. It is called Seasons.

                                                          Seasons

Summers end brings Autumns colours
Autumn gives in to Winters chilly demand
The seasons final conclusion draws near
And is put to rest at last,
By the coming of a new year.
The evergreens seem full of glory
While the hardwoods wither from an uncertainty
A struggle among the elements
Draws nature to the point of tears
Spring beckons for Winter to end
And finally whispers in her ear
It's time to wake up and enjoy the fruits again!
That is, until your time next year
Now move aside and clear the way
For Spring is coming near!
O seeds...O seeds... where are you?
Root yourselves in the garden hither!
And reach out with your branches toward the morning sky
For it is your time now
To prove your worth
For your time is short
And the essence of your substance even shorter
Time is the nemesis of this seasons memory
But there is next year! And the year after!
Until the sun enervates and fades
At a distant time beyond human ken.