Peter Gates

The Seasons

 

Winter winds pile glistening white along the fences in the night.

Spring winds bring the rivers down from cloud filled skies above.

Summer winds bring rainbows arcing clear and oh so bright.

Autumn winds play in dancing paper leaves of color that I love.

 

There is nothing I hold so close and dear as the seasons of the year.

I see them pass through my window glass and marvel at their form.

I dream of home and hearth, of friends, of loves, of those held dear,

And worry not whether weather be of sunlit skies or my inner storm.