Seasons - Poem by Patricia Erickson
Is it winter?
Trees and bushes brown and barren.
The ground white with snow.
Cold wind howling outside.
Or is it spring?
Trees and bushes in full bud.
Flowers poking their little heads
through the ground.
A warm breeze blowing gently
in open doors and windows.
Could it be summer?
The sun and wind hot and dry.
Bushes, flowers and trees in full bloom.
Lawns to be mowed,
Weeds to be pulled.
Maybe it is Fall.
The air with a bit of chill in it.
A light frost changed the leaves
to a bright orange, red and yellow,
Wind rustling the leaves
to and fro on the ground.
Like children running here and there.
What ever the season.
Put a song in your heart,
a grin on your face.
Have a happy day,
for it's great to be alive.
Comments about Seasons by Patricia Erickson
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Patricia Erickson's Other Poems
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You