Summer’s glaring brightness consumes the skin.
Splashing through the dark, this Sun has grown old.
Maple leaves, Autumn trees; all so foreign.
Winter’s branches hallowed Time’s ghostly cold.
I’ve placed my feet at her doorstep; She’s gone.
Patient like the monk; ice begins to form.
No longer asleep, Spring becomes the dawn.
Her showers cleansed my feet, April’s warm storm.
Seasons are reasons we no longer share.
The brown bark beneath, thrives between soil.
Fish swim, birds sing; Her trust falls to the bear.
Seasons are reasons she welcomes the toil.
No path too narrow, no path is too steep.
Until Time decides, She will never sleep.