The seasons come and go
Almost monotonous I know
One after another, as planned
Like the sweep of a clock hand
Each season reminding us all
That from winter to the fall
Is yet another year slipped by
A step closer to when we die
A depressing thought I know
But let the seasons come and go
For I think it would be a crime
If there was to be no springtime
Illuminated sunset clouds, lit
Like smoke in a
funeral pyre
In red and orange
shades
As the sky burns with
fire
My friends happened to mention that
They didn’t
particularly like butterflies
And my parents lost it
completely,
Not caring for
wherefores or whys
My friends became
persona non grata
Treated as if they
were evil Visigoths
It wasn’t as if they
harmed butterflies
They just thought them
arrogant Moths
Nature gifted us with the snowy owl
Who on majestic wings
takes flight
In the Arctic regions
of the North
Hunting its prey both
day and night
Like windblown petals
The snow fell in gentle swirls
Settling on the landscape
To delight the boys and girls
The millpond water
In the sultry air
Stood eerily still
its mirrored surface
Reflected its image
In crystal clarity
So perfectly still
That the millpond water
Could have been
A looking glass
For young Alice
To enter wonderland
So ungainly on the ground
Quite displeasing to the eye
But when they effortlessly
Spread their wings and fly
They perform a graceful ballet
Across the bright blue sky
