SEASONS

Winter’s back is broken.
Spring’ll soon be here.
We’ll hear the frogs croakin’
When the pond of ice is clear.

When summer replaces spring,
Long and hot will be the days.
Dogs’ll sleep and birds’ll sing
In the lazy summer haze.

After the summer, fall comes next,
When the southbound fowl calls,
And the fallen leaves collect
In the ditch and along the walls.

When winter takes up residence
Nothing’s able to grow,
Except the drift along the fence
And the piling heaps of snow

* * *
The ice has melted
The streams are fat
Tumbling down
Kersplunk! Kersplat!

* * *
The squish and suck of mud and muck
Sound beneath my feet
While the plips and plops of fat raindrops
Drum a steady beat.

* * *

Spring is waxing
Winter’s waning
No more snow
But now it’s raining

Summer’s waxing
Spring is waning
Towards the sun
The crops are straining

Fall is waxing
Summer’s waning
Nights turn cold
The leaves are changing

Winter’s waxing
Fall is waning
Until the spring
Jack Frost is reigning

* * *

The bloom of the bloodroot
Is one of the first signs of spring to show.
I’ve seen it in the past
Poke its way up through the thawing snow.
For the bloodroot spring is coming,
But it is coming much to slow.

* * *

It’s a colorless winter day
And for months it will remain this way.
Days on days of white and gray-
White and gray!

There’s nothing to do but wait ‘til spring
When the land’ll thaw and the birds’ll sing,
And oh! The colors spring will bring-
Spring will bring!

* * *

A full moon shines
Through shivering pines
Casting a steady glow
On me as I talk
With her, and walk
Through shadow-dappled snow.

The woods at night
Are black and white
And strangely silent as though
They’re not quite sure
Of me and her-
Are we friend or are we foe?

* * *

The trees ‘round here are crazy,
Or so I have been told.
They dress up when it’s hot out,
And go naked when it’s cold.

* * *

Upon waking at first light,
And peering out through the window,
I noticed the lower field
Was made strangely uniform
By a broad expanse of white,
A foot or more of snow,
The ragged field concealed
By last night’s winter storm.

* * *

The woodland deer,
On wintry nights,
Do pity man and mouse
For missing out
On starry skies
By sleeping in a house.

Both man and mouse ,
On wintry nights,
Do pity woodland deer
Who go without
A cozy nest
Or a fire’s warmth and cheer.

* * *

A wind out of the north
Has turned the lake from calm to mean,
With white-cap crested waves
Dividing troughs of brownish green-
Like rows of snow capped mountains
With their valleys in between.