| I remember where I was when I wrote this. At the laundry mat waiting for the clothes to get done in the dryers. I even remember why I was writing it. It had nothing to do with seasons. I wasn't fantasizing about winter coming. Oddly enough I was focused on sending this into a poetry contest. Unfortunately I didn't win, but I still like the poem. For something I wasn't focusing on I think it came out pretty well. |
| Beauty of the fields in the midst of spring, Winter's snow melting to moisten the grounds, For the flowers to grow and bloom they must accept frost's ring, Fresh colors mixed with healthy green encourage the robin's sounds. Beauty of the ocean in the still of summer, Warm breezes sweep the waves into the sandy shore, A sailor's dream of the churning waters like the salty kiss of one's first lover, The sparkle of sunset with the temptation of more. Beauty of the rolling hills in the peak of fall, Autumn's colors promising to every soul of radical change, Forcing the land's great beasts into a timeless lull, Mother Nature painted through into the next age. Beauty of the majestic mountains in the fury of winter, Layers of white as naturally beautiful as they are deadly, Foolish courage has tempted this great danger enter, Life's circle is beckoning, come to it readily. |
 |
 |
 |