Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Sunday, November 9, 2014

The Seasons

The flowers bloom then go to seed
The leaves turn brown and fall from trees
So all of Nature's children heed
the calling of the Seasons.

The frogs and turtles go to sleep
The squirrels hide acorns buried deep
so all of Nature's children keep
the rhythm of the Seasons.

But humans are a stranger breed
We oddly seem to have a need
Refusing to give in, concede
the cycle of the Seasons.

So stubbornly we do believe
That loss of youth is cause to grieve
And though we try, we can't deceive
the passage of the Seasons.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Mini Challenge, Salvatore Quasimodo


Anonymous said...

This is beautiful both in prose and in truth. Altogether lovely.

Fireblossom said...

Sweet, and you added one of my all time favorite 70s songs, along with Year Of The Cat!

Grace said...

Conceding to the cycle of seasons is a learning curve of us humans, I think ~

Admiring the nature touches in your rhyming verses LM ~ Thanks for participating and wishing you happy week ~

brudberg said...

Indeed.. we have to learn.. but we should accept and embrace...

Anonymous said...

I love this poem. Beautiful, delicate work.

Sumana Roy said...

poor humans always unhappy & grieving.. ...have a long way to go to learn acceptance....

Anjum Wasim Dar said...

identity confirmed' humans are a stranger breed' well written

Susie Clevenger said...

Truth so beautifully shared/written

Gail said...

A beautifully written truth