Crunchy leaves beneath my feet
Tumbling to the path
Storms blow through as autumn comes
A taste of nature’s wrath.
Brilliant reds, oranges and yellows
The leaves that the wind blows
It’s nature’s way of showing us
A season’s at a close.
Then delicious spring strolls through
Tiny buds softly soon appear
Opening ever so slowly
Such a special time of year.
Summer, well, we never know
How hot nature plans to be
We love it too because we enjoy
Fewer clothes and feeling free.
As summer turns to autumn
The crispy days return
New colors once more we see
More of nature’s lessons to learn.
Then winter is the time, of course
That nature can be wild
She’s nasty and ever willful
Just like a spoiled little child.
I just love the seasons
That fills a year with such a mix
Of colors textures and smells
While nature plays her tricks!
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Comments about this poem (Nature’s Seasons by Marilyn Lott )
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(4 November 1771 – 30 April 1854)
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- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
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