Spring,....stirs her eager young
Giving life, renewed to those
Who stand about and doze.
She whispers hope, of things begun
Beneath winters cold repose.
Summer,....smiling golden rays,
With ample breasts of rain
Feeds, and soothes the pains
Of changing white, to green, to gray
While dressing her wards again.
Fall,....donning multicolored hues
Weeps, her leaves cascading
As her life is brilliantly fading.
She takes with her the morning dew,
Leaving frost in the trading.
Winter,....wearing crystal shards,
Bares her nudity to all
Standing gracefully tall.
She lays a white robe upon my yard,
While singing her wanton call.
And I....well, I sit passively by
Watching, through shielding glass
Four sisters marching past.
Thanking God who dwells on high
For His daughters stark contrasts.
Tim I. Brumley