SEASONS

To live in a region that has four seasons,
Is unequaled for a multitude of reasons,
According to the season, your mind stores its memories,
To recollect later as a pastime activity.
With reminiscence, your mind does find,
How to categorize your life, one season at a time.

Of all the seasons God’s nature displays,
Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall,
I ask myself, which season is my favorite of all?

I walk the snowy woods, on this winter’s night.
Warmed by its bitter cold, I fall under Nature’s dreamscape hold,
She displays a shining sparking moonscape sight.

Her bed is warmed by a Himalayan quilt,
A coverlet, soft as satin and white as milk.
The bedposts, a gift from Grace, lathered with delicate and detailed lace,
Support a star- studded canopy, woven and stitched with indigo silk.
Concealed, life slumbers, snug and safe, all within its frozen base.
Winter, I believe, is my taken taste.

Spring is the time of God communion, the time of a heartfelt reunion.
Tis the time of reincarnation, the incarnation of a fresh creation,
The time of cycles prevalence, the time we notice its relevance.
Rain falls and evaporates, falls again, and invigorates,
Life awakens from its winter’s sleep, the yearly cycle is now complete.

From magnetic poles that cycle converse,
To black holes spewing forth a universe,
God’s love of cycles is replete.
Spring is the season most ethereal, to me it is the most real.

Summer is the season of relaxation,
To temper down stress, to rest, to casually assess,
How our mind seeks its mortal emancipation.
Nature’s graduation day arrives,
The students, sown, now grown, are free to flounder, or to survive.

From blossoms to full flavored fruits,
Crunchy nuts from infinitesimal seeds,
Trees that grew from virginal roots,
To display an aurora of resplendent leaves,
They form a canopy, to transcend under, and let Nature appease,
A glimpse of what was, from the God created garden of Adam and Eve.
Summer is a matchless medley to me.

Grace presents to you, Autumn,
A dream state world, a reflection off a facet- cut crystal,
Colors that are mesmerizing, colors that are mystical.
Creations are aglow, creations that seem to know,
This is all part of a great razzle-dazzle show.
They sense the past, knowing this production is not their last.

Others may wither away, some may die this day.
They think it their fate: they think it to be,
They depart to become part, of a great infinite sea.
From Luca* is bred the cells of immortality,
To cycle eternal, through God created progeny.
The enigmatic nature of Autumn, it appeals to me.
Autumn may be my chosen cup of tea.

Readers, what favorite season might yours be?

LUCA (last universal common ancestor)