Seasons Turn
He lived summer internally.
It fed and warmed him
On the cold gray days of winter.
He turned to green the trees
That stood denuded of leaves.
Imagined the gardens bare earth
Filled with Floras beauty.
The bright paint of nature
To touch leaf and flower.
In his minds eye flighty butterflies
Spread out their jewelled wings;
Uninhibited to catch of suns warmth.
He envisaged the drowsy drone of bees
Taking pollen to deposit in their hive.
Recalled to memory the birds
Whose symphony woke him at dawn.
This sustained him as he waited
For the first finger of warmth.
And springs cavalry arrived.
poem by Paul Brookes
Added by Poetry Lover
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