Winds no longer blow
From cold Arctic ice
Snow stays far to north
Winter pays her price
Days growing longer
Nature now smiling
Winter’s time shall pass
Spring begins dialing
Nature’s busy tone
Some days, springtime halts
Hibernation plays
Winter’s final waltz
Trees wait with patience
Soon nature will green
Sun replacing clouds
Spring’s finest cuisine
Seasons come and go
Nature makes her call
Time for winter’s end
Spring’s voice now enthralls
Originally published March, 2021.
The world’s favorite season is the spring. All things seem possible in May.
By observing nature, the best pace is a snail’s pace.
Edwin May Teale (1899-1980) was an American naturalist, photographer, and writer. In 1966, he became the first naturalist to earn a Pulitzer Prize.
We forget that it’s in the interruptions, the waiting seasons, the disappointments that we grow best.
From 2 Peter 1:5-7: “For this very reason, you must make every effort to support your faith with excellence, and excellence with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with endurance, and endurance with godliness, and godliness with mutual affection, and mutual affection with love.”
Sara Hagerty is an American Christian author.
Whispering tree
Spring renews season’s lease
Building each leaf
Observing landscape’s peace
Praising blue skies
Creator shares His love
Holding time still
Sharing daylight above
Warming ground swells
Spring arrives to embrace
Stirring with life
Breathing with nature’s grace
Connecting hope
Creator at doorstep
Refreshing trust
Lighting journey’s small steps
Exhaling joy
Spring follows daily plan
Writing each page
Lifting spirits of man
Uplifting love
Creator’s whispers spun
Setting table
Rising with morning’s sun
From Ecclesiastes 3:1: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”
Winter’s snow, cannot hide
Cherished love, deep inside
During darkness of night
Her love shines, always bright
Spring’s blossoms, love shares
Life’s newness, always cares
Nature wakens, each land
Her splendor, in God’s hands
Summer’s glowing spirit
Longing to walk near it
Love growing, day by day
Her grandeur comes this way
Autumn’s colored venue
Love fills each day’s menu
Landscape treasures each thrill
Her warmth hides winter’s chill
Seasons, patient with time
Faith grows, ever in rhyme
Righteous gifts, sing as hymns
Father’s love, never dims
From Lamentations 3:22-24: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in Him.'”
Originally published February, 2021.
Frozen tundra’s cold
Fireplace consumes final log—
When will winter end?
Sunny skies, all blue
Winter’s Arctic deception—
Days of lasting chills
Warm, westerly winds
Chinook’s welcome arrival—
Winter’s escape plan
Winter’s white blanket covers frozen land
Sheltering nature’s glory until spring
Arctic-fed winds seem to blow from glaciers
Sleeping quietly, life conceals its zing
Northernmost Great Lakes transform skies to gray
Flying above, geese enjoy winter’s fling
Small ponds reflect from thick, icy mirrors
Pausing all around, boldness waits for spring
Ancient trees appear to wait in repose
Ignoring life’s deep freeze, buds holding out
Nature’s winter rest, preparing for spring
Arriving tonight, snowstorm’s final shout
Never to worry, winter fades away
Coming on schedule, spring colors each day
Originally published January, 2021.
Summer’s chapter ends
Autumn’s colors being groomed—
Landscape awakens
Summer’s gate closes
Autumn’s eager to open—
Cascading colors
Summer’s warmth fading
Sunlight’s arc sliding lower—
Autumn here at last
From the words of American farmer, artist, and writer, Rowland E. Robinson: “September days have the warmth of summer in their briefer hours, but in their lengthening evenings a prophetic breath of autumn air.”
Ah, September! You are the doorway to the season that awakens my soul.
Peggy Toney Horton is an American writer, who lives in West Virginia.
All the months are crude experiments out of which the perfect September is made.
Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) was an English writer.
This poem takes a different route from much of my usual poetry. It begins with the word “incessant” and carries this meaning throughout the poem with various synonyms. Using free verse, the number of syllables remains consistent with seven in the odd-numbered lines and ten in the even-numbered ones. Thanks for reading and enjoy!
Early in the morning’s peace
Welcoming the incessant quietness
Predawn light creates shadows
Enjoying their unending playfulness
Cool, crisp air signals autumn
Witnessing the season’s ceaseless nature
Solitary doe walks nearby
Looking for tender grass, endless craving
Neighbor walking her collie
Moving with an uninterrupted pace
Front porch provides morning roost
Dreaming now of countless, unbroken thoughts
Past memories parade on by
Watching an ongoing video show
Former students fill the room
Flourishing with unflagging attention
Grandchildren always gather
Hearing constant laughter, bringing a smile
North wind gusts with icy chill
Feeling winter biting with nonstop bliss
Frigid cold invades the porch
Warming now, by persistent fireplace flames
Life has been kind, a blessing
Spending everlasting time with our Lord
Originally published September, 2020.
Big Sky Buckeye 