The Dance of Seasons
by tobydphotographer
each person is a season
Spring
In robes of green, she softly sways,
A whisper borne on warming days.
Her hands coax life from slumber’s rest,
The earth awakens, freshly dressed.
She scatters seeds where dreams will rise,
And paints the meadows with her skies.
Summer
A blaze of red, she moves with might,
The sun burns long, the world alight.
Her laughter rings through golden air,
Abundance thrives, both bold and fair.
She dances fierce, with fire and cheer,
The peak of life, the crown of year.
Autumn
In lavender, she gently weeps,
Where harvest falls and silence creeps.
Her arms embrace the fading glow,
As amber leaves begin to blow.
She sings of change, of soft release,
A bridge between, a whispered peace.
Winter
Clothed in grey, with steps so slow,
She bends where barren fields now grow.
Her breath is frost, her touch a shroud,
She hushes life, both still and proud.
Yet in her quiet, seeds remain,
To rise anew, when Spring calls rain.
Time
And in between, the golden one,
Who spins the sky and turns the sun.
She marks the rhythm, holds the key,
To seasons’ dance, their harmony.
Through all their steps, her hands endure,
Eternal, vast, and ever pure.
