Circles

This poignant poem was written by Michael Whitehead about the seasons and how they parallel the circle of life 

Circles

And shall we skip, as children should
By babbling streams and budding wood
And fly with feet which so young
Span blue-belled carpet with blossom hung
And with our childish play salute
Natures rebirth with each new shoot.

FOR THIS IS SPRING

And shall we stroll, as lovers do
On coral sand,’neath skies of blue
And love amidst musk heavy flowers
Laugh with the sun, and spurn the showers
And in our hopes and dreams delight
Find pleasure in each others sight

FOR THIS IS SUMMER

And shall we walk, as friends of old
September forests of burnished gold
And scatter leaves like coppered snow
With rebellious kicks from ageing toe
And in this our time of lifes long reckoning
In mind still young, new challenges beckoning

FOR THIS IS AUTUMN

And shall we sleep as all men must
When our time ends and we are dust
And with the frozen Earth embrace
Beneath white mantle we leave no trace
Yet even then, as all seems gloom
Generations unborn, stir natures womb

FOR THIS IS WINTER

But soon it will be spring…