Springtime casts a spell of green,
Paints flowers opening to the sun.
Rains fall softly, saying ‘Wake’.
In a fresh world just begun.
New leaves and buds, bird and lambs.
Grow and burst, hatch and run.
Summer, when we lie on grass
Under shimmer of blue sky.
Murmuring bees, shade of trees.
Matching butterflies flutter by.
Evening holds the scent of flowers.
Racing in lightness, swallows fly.
Autumn, when the leaves turn red,
Umber and amber and then fly.
The wispy smoke of bonfires drifts
Upwards in the evening sky.
Morning mists blur scarlet berries,
Nuts and apples drop and die.
Winter, when your warm breath smokes,
In the bitter morning chill.
Night brings frosts that creep and crisp.
Trees are stretching black and still.
Etching patterns where the bright
Robin dares a whistling trill.
By Jo Peters