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In the days that are known as spring
into nests eggs are laid and hatchlings born:
life renewed like the sun arising on a new morn;
while hope again restored it does bring.
In the days that are called summer
young adults from the nests take flight to leave.
As they make their way skyward how their parents must grieve;
all while bees from their hives go a hummer.
In the days that are known as fall;
while the generations all grow older
the world becomes to each, just a little bit colder:
for time upon each of us does call.
In the days that are called winter
sunlight on the roof causes snow to gleam,
and as bitterly cold and wet as it so can seem,
a fire's warmth can't at all be hindered.
Though seasons come and they do go;
for through their passing each of us changes;
while as the years flow on, with them our youth estranges
in exchange for the wisdom that's bestowed.
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Author Notes
This is an older poem of mine. As of yet, haven't done a lot of rewriting on.
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