"Seasons" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
Seasons Come and Seasons Go
The morning wakes with crisp and golden light,
As winter yields its long, unyielding night.
The frozen earth begins to soften deep,
And stirs the silent seeds from heavy sleep.
A sudden green ignites the barren hill,
Where dancing rivers shake the icy chill.
The cherry blossoms dress the wooden bough,
A promise whispered to the field and plow.
The morning mist retreats before the sun,
A declaration that the spring’s begun.
For seasons come and seasons always go,
The constant rhythm that the woodlands know.
And so it is within the human heart,
Where hidden blooms and sudden healings start.
We break the frost of sorrow and of pain,
To find our spirits drinking in the rain.
A youth of wonder, innocent and bright,
Steps forward boldly in the growing light.
We find our footing in the warming soil,
With eyes of hope and hands prepared to toil.
Then comes the summer, fierce and full of fire,
A blazing canopy of high desire.
The fields are heavy with the growing grain,
And thunder clouds bring rich, dramatic rain.
The days stretch out, magnificent and long,
The forest rings with cricket, bird, and song.
The rivers swell, the oceans kiss the sand,
As vibrant abundance floods across the land.
The fruit is ripe, the heavy branches bend,
In wealth that feels as though it cannot end.
For seasons come and seasons always go,
The shifting tides that in our spirits flow.
Our summer years are rich with strength and pride,
With passions deep and doors flung open wide.
We build our castles in the midday heat,
And chase our dreams with swift and eager feet.
We bear the burden of the noon sun's glare,
With vital force and heavy crowns to wear.
We harvest triumphs, drink the sweetest wine,
And think ourselves immortal and divine.
But silently, the shadows start to lean,
And amber tints the edges of the green.
The autumn enters with a cooler breath,
A gorgeous dance that simulates a death.
The leaves turn gold, magenta, bronze, and red,
A brilliant carpet for the earth to tread.
The air grows sharp, the smoky twilight falls,
As overhead, the migrating flock calls.
The barns are full, the final sheaves are bound,
And quiet settles on the cooling ground.
For seasons come and seasons always go,
A graceful truth the aging mind must know.
The autumn of our lives is rich and wise,
With softer light within our weary eyes.
We let go of the things we cannot hold,
And watch our frantic vanities unfold.
There is a beauty in the slowing pace,
A deeper understanding of our place.
We gather memories like fallen leaves,
And bless the harvest that the soul receives.
Then winter enters, pale and wrapped in white,
To claim the domain of the longest night.
The woods are stripped, the branches sharp and bare,
Against the stillness of the freezing air.
The world retreats beneath a shroud of snow,
While hidden deep, the silent rivers flow.
It is a time for sleep, for rest, for peace,
Where all the striving and the motions cease.
The stars shine brighter in the frosty dark,
Above the embers of the fading spark.
For seasons come and seasons always go,
The grandest tapestry the world can show.
And in the winter of our final days,
We look back on the labyrinth of ways.
It is no tragedy to meet the frost,
No single hour of the journey lost.
For underneath the ice, the promise lies,
That everything which falls is bound to rise.
Life is a circle, sacred and sublime,
An endless dance across the face of time.
©A. Derek Catalano/Gemini
Related poem: All We Have Are Memories
Related poem: Time Is Short
