The Magic of Seasons

16 Sep


The Magic of the Seasons

I dreamed that I was a butterfly, floating with the pale

gold sequins spilled by the Locust tree, from my cocoon

the dream set me free. I woke to a cool autumn morning

the season where all things change, many of Mother

Nature’s children drop their cloaks returning to the earth

from which they came.

The nearby brook reveals a frozen sparkling bank as ice

crystals form at its edge, the pure water will always run

free, of winter it has no dread. Dreams floating within a

liquid eye, relives the wonders of spring that brings the

lovely butterfly.

Alas, we must wake to these frosty days; wait for the early

darkness, the harvest moon shining down upon mounds of

freshly mowed hay. Masters of cadence the landscape

transforms, winds leap and the maple trees weep, soon

Mother Nature will put her children to sleep.

The language of Mother Nature is never old and never new,

as she speaks to the world under a sky of blue. Then spring

will once again arrive, and the earth will warm, the chicory

plants will bloom; with it, the butterfly released from its magic




Posted by on September 16, 2015 in Poetry


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10 responses to “The Magic of Seasons

  1. bowmanauthor

    September 16, 2015 at 7:39 pm

    I really love the antiquity of endless, bountiful nature in this one. Still painting?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. artandmoondreams

    September 16, 2015 at 8:37 pm

    Lovely imagery, nice view of seasonal transitions. Thank you for sharing this.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Meredith

    September 17, 2015 at 2:04 pm

    Outstandinganding beauty in your photograph compliments your poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. sedge808

    September 18, 2015 at 5:29 am

    how lovely


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