When Last Is Sometimes First Poem by Bryan Taplits

Every vitality shares a flipside worth,
the colors all assigned,
As the tinctures of Seasons sally forth
Leaving footprints of hues behind.
It's white for Winters heavy boughs;
and green for Summer's fling
The Spring sports multi-tinctured hints
While the Fall fells Spring's once borning bling.
It's hard to decide which Season's more dear
In this panoply, as it is made,
Each has it's worth-throughout it is searched-
In this annual multi-colored cavalcade.
So what do I decide? Let me take you on a ride
Where my memories reside next to me,
Perhaps they are not prized in someone else's eyes
But this is the design that I see:
Schoolyard years begins in Fall
And for me cleared many mysteries,
So Fall portends-and, I guess, to me She sends,
The gateway to those lessons I first learned to believe.
So it appears that:
While Spring puts on Its swaddling togs
And Summer sweats away,
And where Winter's blasts-
portents of Nature's avenging wrath-
It is Fall
that points the way.