seasons of my heart
Winter
My heart is cold,
the outer layer dead,
blackened.
The roots survive,
hunkered down waiting for the sun
Spring
The flowers bloom,
beautiful colors fill the air.
I have found the one
who opens my petals
and lets in the sunshine
Summer
Everything is warm,
sometimes too much so.
But I keep on with the charade,
knowing what happens next.
Fall
My leaves start falling,
every lie you tell me is starting to fail.
My heart gets ready to close again,
preparing for another long winter
stuck lonely,
trying to preserve the roots for the next spring.
Seasonal Symphony
In Spring's awakening, a tender flute calls,
Nature's canvas, painted with verdant thralls.
Summer's symphony, a bold brass fanfare,
Blazing sunsets, in the warm evening air.
Autumn's ballad, a melancholy waltz,
Leaves pirouette, in amber exalts.
Winter's sonnet, a whispered lullaby,
Silent snowfall, under the moonlit sky.
Each season a maestro, conducting its own,
In Earth's grand concert, a harmonious tone.
From Spring's gentle murmur to Winter's soft sigh,
Nature's music plays, as the seasons fly by.
Four Sisters
Summer has always been the star of the show. When she arrives, she makes sure everyone knows it. She times her arrival perfectly to steal attention away from her sister. The moment Spring steps out of the shadows and starts to shyly show her warmth and beauty, Summer pushes past her and steps into the spotlight. She makes sure she shines brighter, hotter, and greener than Spring ever did. She is far too proud to believe that most prefer her sister over her.
Summer’s reign does not last long. Once she has had her time on the stage, she is deposed by her sister Autumn. Autumn works slowly, creeping behind Summer, bringing her chill to gradually, but steadily, push Summer out of the spotlight. As she creeps, she distracts the world with gorgeous hues of red, orange, and yellow and the promise of cool, comfortable evenings that are a welcome change from Summer’s oppressive heat.
But Autumn doesn’t work alone. She only sets the stage for the coming of Winter. Winter is the cruelest of the four. Her presence blankets the stage and sucks the color and warmth from the room, erasing all memory of her sisters. Her hold on the spotlight lasts longer than any of the others, clinging far longer than the audience would like. Some are bored by her unchanging, cold performance; some rail against her harsh, desolate temperament, but all long for the return of Spring.
When the first sister finally reappears, she teases the audience, barely stepping a toe out from behind the curtain before retreating again, leaving the audience alone with Winter. But with sluggish progress, Spring finally makes her way back into the spotlight, gently ushering Winter off the stage, and the audience welcomes her warmly.
The 4 Seasons.
Spring
The combination of rain and flowers,
Familiar scents arising.
People think I bring joy
I offer many things,
With opportunities in that list
Summer
Everybody waits for me,
The feeling of people being free from school.
Teenagers working for what they have,
Hoping that my nights never end.
Fall
My leaves now fall,
The feeling of being naked.
Trying to cherish the good moments
Before winter ruins all good things we have made.
Winter
I suck the life out of all that is good.
I am hated the most for a reason.
I can be beautiful sometimes,
But mostly, I make life difficult.
Because I don’t deserve to be hated this much.
Cycle Of Life.
Snow finally melts, Spring flowers begin to sprout.
The Sun shines throughout.
flowers dance and sway, to the song of the sun.
Spring brings out children who are looking for fun.
The Summer heat beats hopefulness into the day,
reminding us we will all be okay.
Summer brings light into our lives, when others couldn't,
this light may be thousands miles away, but it reassures us when hurt.
Fall never fails to show us the beauty of circle of life.
This divine process can be seen over time.
In the begining leaves helplessly fall from the trees, over time the leaves regain their strength, and pull themselves, back up to greatness.
showing us, even nature has their ups and downs, but never give up just you fell, fight to get where you once were, be courageous.
Winter may be one of the coldest seasons,
just don't mistaken that for weakness.
Winter's harsh wealthers prepare you for the darkest place in your life,
when thinking of giving up, it gets colder, pushing and guiding you to the fire.
repeating this cycle every year, guiding you through life..
The Seasons caress
Spring, my fair lady. You have eyes like blossoming buds. Your lips taste like honey and sweet, soft breezes.
Summer, the monarch of my heart. With hair like Apollo himself, swirling around you as Notos himself loved you. Your laugh sounds like the sweet calls of birds, like the rustling of wind through trees, like the humming of bees.
Fall, prince of my life. Your smile feels like the crunch of leaves, and the smell of roasting pumpkin seeds. Your skin is an acorn, sprouting and enveloping me, like tree bark, like the shades right between dusky night and setting sun.
Winter, mine emperor. Your hands pull me close, the color of rotted leaves hidden away. Your cold kisses whisk me away in smoke the color of frost, scented with hot chocolate.
The Life of a Year
Spring is a baby. Quiet cries with the soft rainfall and loud shrieks with the storms. Fresh fragrant new baby smell. Wonder and awe of what is and what will be.
Summer is the teenager with its hot passion, stormy temperament, and carefree attitude. The days are long and feel as if they are invincible and never-ending.
Fall is the middle aged parent enjoying the apples from its trees of labor and fondly reminiscing about summer while its leaves begin to wither and fall.
Winter is the old woman, gray and white with age. Bitter at dreams unfulfilled. Cold from the whipping, icy winds of the world.
Grand Tour: Voyager Returns
February 4
Flung centripetal
Kissing the god of the underworld
Forever frozen
In exotic outlying sublimations
May 4
En route to the hellscape
Of the goddess of love
That averages with Hades
Inspiring tepidity
July 4
'Til the kiss with Aphrodite
Begins and ends in gilded guilt
With a hot tongue betwixt
That can melt lead, defeating alchemy
October 4
Slingshot centrifugal
Eyeing verdancy
And an entire spectrum
From yellow to green
...and per annum
...red to orange
...and blue to the forevers of ultraviolet...
Life and Rest
The beginning and the ends are my domain.
I am the first and the last.
My beauty is not obvious,
My necessity not well known.
I make my lands to shine a purest white
Though scarce be the day's cold light.
Harvest and gather, store and stow,
For I bring you rest from life's toil.
I am the year's morning, it is time to rise;
Toward the Sun and upon its strength lean.
I fill your rivers and enlighten your shoots.
The tenderest of beginnings are mine to give.
Burst forth from hard-shelled chambers,
lay open your embrace
I have so much life to give
And not a moment to waste.
Mine is the middle, the Sun my banner,
Waving it East to West in slow, controlled manner.
I bear it over the good, the bad, the just, and unjust,
but the unjust elude and extend my power.
It is not my place to make things right
only to give warmth and light.
I ripen and wrinkle all exposed.
What is it to me whether you protect your own?
I am the twilight of the year,
The last call and warning as the baring draws near.
Harvest the flowers and the fruits of the vine.
Whatever you leave behind is mine.
Celebrate and enjoy the fleeting light,
But also work to make your affairs aright.
For when I am done and the Sun has set
leave nothing undone that you might regret.
Four Pages
“Phew, there’s so much dust here,” James complained as he coughed, opening the sealed boxes that had been stored for quite some time. “These books are from when I was a kid. What do you want me to do with them, Mom?” “Take the ones you want for your kids, and we’ll donate the rest. They’re just taking up space here, and I was thinking of renovating this storage room, even if your father disagrees. You understand, Brian?” “But Mom, I don’t even have kids. I’m just moving in with my girlfriend,” he grumbled, knowing that the battle with his mother was lost, so he decided not to waste any more time and started going through the books. Suddenly, a marble glimmered in one of the boxes, catching his attention to the box full of comics. His restrained laughter echoed, filling the gloomy space as he left the first box of books open, his attention now focused on the comic-filled bundle.
In the first box, a collection of four thick books lay inside. “Has anyone seen my pages?” asked the book titled Autumn, shaking a bit. “I think I’ve lost some.” Its attention turned to the Spring book that should have been beside it, but instead there was an empty space. “Hey!” it exclaimed, seeing the Spring book at the bottom of the carton, activating a music box and dancing to a famous classical tune. Balancing skillfully, its sheets moved to the rhythm, and pages filled with pink petals and spring flowers flipped rapidly like a movie.
On the other side of the box, the Winter book remained still, receiving a breeze from the Summer book fanning it with its pages adorned with sunny vacation landscapes, attempting to lower its fever. “I think I have yellow fever,” Winter said. “Look at my pages, they’re yellowish.” Summer replied dismissively, “Nonsense, that’s just because you’re old. Mosquitoes are more attracted to me. You just have a common, run-of-the-mill cold.”
“Are you cold, Winter?” asked Autumn. “No, my hard leather cover keeps me warm. But what I need right now is to get this fever down, thank you for your concern,” Winter replied. “Actually, I was wondering if you used my lost pages to keep warm since winter nights can be chilly...” Autumn clarified. “My plastic cover wouldn’t help much, but you can have it if you want,” Summer offered without stopping the fanning. “Would this bookmark create more wind for you? I found it in my last pages,” Spring said, bringing over a fuchsia piece of cloth with a keychain-like finish.
“You see, I’m missing pages, not many, but it’s strange and I don’t know, maybe a wicked being like a witch or a vampire took them,” Autumn said, playfully pretending to shiver in fear. “That’s the influence of Halloween for you. You shouldn’t read yourself, that’s the first rule of the book’s decalogue,” Summer rebutted. “I don't read myself, but I like to look at the pictures. Observing flowers is beautiful, they celebrate it a lot in Japan,” Spring said, spinning around so the others could leaf through its decorated pages.
“If you know that, it’s because you’ve read yourself, caught red-handed!” Summer exclaimed. “I bet your content is boring, just surfboards and beaches,” Spring teased, making faces. “Of course not, there are also bonfires, fireworks, and in some countries even Christmas celebrations,” Summer retorted with a smile, but soon realized its mistake. “Oops.” “Christmas? Oh, don't take away my best part!” Winter stuttered. “Don't say that! What people like the most are gifts and that happens at birthdays too. There are a lot of those in the summer,” Summer rebuffed. “There are also a lot of birthdays in the spring,” Spring chimed in.
“Wow, it looks like I tore out pages from another book to use as bookmarks for the comics. Where is the bookmark I stole from my mom? Oh, I think I left it in the Spring book, I never finished it,” Brian mumbled to himself. “And what book were these pages from? Let's see, Mid-Autumn Festival, Day of the Dead, Thanksgiving… these must be from the book about Autumn! Although this page… ‘After autumn comes winter, don't miss the next book about winter…’ This promotional page would fit better here,” he said, placing it inside the Winter book. “Ouch, it’s hot! Ah, now it’s cooling down,” he remarked, observing the other books in the boxes.
“Brian are you finished?” his mother asked, entering the room. “Yes, Mom. All of those can be thrown away,” Brian said, pointing to one of the boxes. “Are you sure? They were from when you were little, how sweet,” his mom reminisced. “Yeah, I’m sure. I just skimmed through the comics. Won’t be reading them again. I’ll just keep the ones about the four seasons.”
“You’re going to keep those, even though they’re so old? I thought you’d take the comics or the shiny ones that are better preserved,” his mother said, surprised. “That’s unconditional love right there,” she laughed as Brian played with the pop-up elements of the four books. When placed together, they formed a complete silhouette of the Earth divided into four parts, each representing a different season.