seasons

“Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.”
― Yoko Ono

death is not the final station
in the seasons of our lives,
for this is a vast creation,
limitless to him who strives

for the beauty of the springtime,
when the bounty of the seed
and the lyric of the day rhyme
wake the music of the reed.

then, beyond the spring, the summer,
when the harvesttime is come:
every faithful overcomer
sets his sights on saccharum—

subsistence to pass the autumn,
when fell colours drape the ground
with their fusion of rock-bottom
acumen to keep hope sound.

soon, the air, chill-swept with winter,
sternly rattles every bone
to the point of nearest splinter,
where the path seems most undone.

nor is this the final station
in the seasons of our lives;
for, amidst earth’s vast creation,
life beyond fleet seasons thrives.

© Copyright 2023 July 10
by Clyve A. Bowen♫