Without Rhyme nor Reason, An Ode to the Season’s
How blessed are we
To live in a land
Where we have four seasons’
Each different and grand
At present it’s Autumn
But we call it fall
A time when Nature is having a Ball
Mother Nature the Artist
Takes Paint Brush in Hand
And colours the Landscape
With Reds, Browns and Gold
Oh, what a picture our eyes do behold
And then comes Winter
When the land is asleep
With a blanket of snow
Many centimetres deep
And the Pine, the Spruce and the Balsam Fir too
Get a fringe of white snow
Which enhances the view
And tho it is winter, when everything’s calm
Slowly but surely spring comes to the land
Green shoots they appear on the trees and the shrubs
The fields turn green and the birds start to nest
Life starts again, after a long winters rest
And then it is summer that glorious time
When crops are growing
And the weather is fine
From June to September
It’s Lazy Day Time
My Ode to the Season’s if finished at last.
Robert Anderson