Here in the Southern Hemisphere, Spring is finally upon us and the early rising with crying babes is not so miserable and dark. This poem takes a full-year view of the wonder of each season, and the borders in-between.

When Spring arrives, the flowers burst

and all the trees can quench their thirst

on rain that falls and drips off eaves

and climbs up roots to fresh green leaves.

Then summer roars and fruits grow plump

and teenage birds prepare to jump;

the air is warm and friendly now,

and when it’s done the sun will bow,

and dip a little further down

to point us to the Autumn crown

of red and orange leaves of trees

all getting ready for a freeze

for Winter is an icy quarter:

skies are clear and so’s the water.

Shrubs are huddled, trees asleep

and bulbs are stirring, buried deep…