The Passing Seasons

The thawing earth, the smell of rain,
A hint of green, a bird’s refrain
Tiny buds, and early blooms,
These tell us that it’s Spring that looms.

The beaming sun, the rustling leaves,
A riot of flowers, grass waves in the breeze,
Birds feeding their young, the air filled with song,
These tell us that Summer is now well along.

Leaves seem aflame, the air crisp, and clear.
The birds are migrating, their calls sweet and dear.
The days growing short, the nights growing long.
These tell us that Autumn is now anon.

A deep blanket of snow, sparkling and smooth.
A warm cup of cocoa, to sip and to soothe.
Friends come to visit, the hearth glowing bright.
These tell us that Winter is now in our sight.

The seasons do pass, in their timeless fashion,
And for each one, there is cause for passion.
Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter as well,
Each has it’s wonder, each cast a spell.

Joni Cody
Homer