A Constant Changing Pattern Poem by Heath Gunn

A sprinkling of sunshine,
A smattering of snow.
Familiar weather patterns drift,
As through our lives we go.
The coming round of springtime,
To close off winter’s chill.
Budding flowers all about,
Press on, exert their will.
A hundred rainy mornings,
As another year flies by.
Time it goes a-marching on,
In the blinking of an eye.
The clouds they race past on the breeze,
Streams that trickle on.
And crashing, mighty waterfalls,
To oceans rushing, gone.
A constant changing pattern,
Is what we all behold.
Be it dark grey skies of winter.
Or autumn’s reds and golds.
And how we take for granted,
That which we see every day.
That there’ll always be another dawn,
A park in which to play.


Heath Gunn