The winter sun glows bleak and cold,
over a barren wasteland of gray.
Trees stand twisted, gnarled, and old,
their cheery birds long flown away.
Bruise colored clouds float through the sky,
blemishes on dull, faded blue.
Caught on wind, snowflakes fly,
a winter ballet floating on its cue.
Watch waves freeze in their place,
by unforgiving December gales.
Frozen flowers, intricate lace,
each frigid petal telling a tale.
Springtime rain falling blue and clear,
dampened earth shaking its frosty spell.
Thawing lakes, half frozen mirrors,
melt water making deep, refreshing wells.
New life budding from deadened trees,
flowers casually peaking out their heads.
Sweet scents carried on the soft breeze,
over rolling hills, and heather beds.
A slight chill still clinging on,
refusing to loosen its sharp hold.
Winter weather ruling from dusk to dawn,
but during the day the sun is bold.
Summer heat cracking the ground,
in gashes long and deep.
Heat bugs making droning sounds,
pushing into your mind while you sleep.
The horizon bright shifting shades,
clouds dreamlike painted ships.
Then with darkness the scene fades,
and over earth's edge the sun sleepily dips.
Fully bloomed flowers elegantly stand,
slow breezes bending thin stems.
Cool grass, a velvet coating over the land,
staining Sunday dress hems.
Dead leaves an explosion of gold,
falling as colorful rain.
Icy winds taking their hold,
starting the spread of a bleak stain.
Long abandoned strips of beaches,
cool gray water lapping over stones.
The virus grasping eternity in its reach,
figures on the sand stand solitary and lone.
Plump apples ripe, falling from trees,
cornstalks high and brilliant bright.
Last of the honey produced by dying bees,
tepid weather giving up her fight.
Gold trophy winner
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