Seasons Poem by Brooke Renwick

Summer heat is beating me down to the ground,
its fierce radiation melting my skin all around.
Winter's chill isn't chilly from sunrise to sunset,
and I breathe in fresh air that feels clean as it gets.

Autumn and spring are the seasons that shift,
when rivers fade after monsoons or new blossoms lift.
I get things done daily without the whinges
because it's fresh air on which my happiness hinges.