Summer’s burning, blazing heat.
A time of trials the woods must meet.
All the trees turn to ash.
The ground is dry and no river runs fast.
Fall’s arrival is the cool breeze,
the gentle wind and the absent bees.
Plants fade in this time.
Leaves burst into color as they fall from line.
Winter grips with its cold embrace,
making the land a barren place.
Neither grass, nor trees, nor flowers grow.
Death calls out and the weak fall in rows.
Spring begins with a sprout of hope.
Growth hold like a rope.
Flowers bloom and birds sing.
The earth warms and it’s time to plant.
Hope and revival begin to ring.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the imagery in this post and have no artistic claim to it.