Thursday, December 23, 2021
CYCLES A POEM OF THE SEASONS
Trees are bent with apples red,
Farmers' fields are turned and tired.
It's cold, with gray clouds overhead.
Soon the snow will lay a blanket,
On grass and road, on farmer's field.
Within a white and silent shroud,
The world will be quite shortly sealed.
Yet, in the home, as in a man,
A fire will burn, a song will sound.
Life will let the Winter pass,
Until, at last, the Spring comes round.
The geese shall change their clothes once more,
As hills put on their yellow flowers.
Farmers' fields will all turn green,
As white clouds rain down April showers.
On through Spring and into Summer,
'Til the first act of the Winter play,
Fields and geese trimmed round about,
With apples red, and feathers gray.
Labels: Autumn, donovan baldwin, fall, poem about seasons, poetry, spring, summer, winter
