A Poet's Seasons

A Poet's Seasons

A Poet hears the springtime rain,
beating down, on window pane.
To words he puts the pleasing sound,
words to please, rhythmic round.

A Poet feels the summer sun,
beating down, on everyone.
To words he puts the brilliant sight,
words to please, shining bright.

A Poet sees the autumn leaves,
falling down, among the trees.
To words he puts the colors’ glow,
words to please, awesome show.

A Poet touches the winter snow,
flaking down, the season's slow.
To words he puts the pulsing white,
words to please, blinding light.

A Poet smells the springtime flowers,

growing now, in April showers.

To words he puts the bursting hues,

words to please, greens, pinks and blues.

A Poet swims the summer seas,

the oceans’ motions, foaming ease.

To words he puts the salty glory,

words to please, marine-life story.

A Poet sees the fall time passes,

back to school, for lads and lasses.

To words he puts the lessons learned,

words to please, grades all earned.

A Poet sees the winter’s fury,

blizzards blowing, snowdrifts bury.

To words he puts the land of white,

words to please, even white at night.

© 2013 ajwrites57

A Long

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Image: Jean-Bernard Restout [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons