The Coming Seasons Poem by Francie Lynch

Fledglings,
Now long
From the nest,
Alight with grace
For a brief repast,
For a well-earned rest;
Then secret away
To beat December's threats.

Fleecy sheep,
The promise of Spring,
Are fatted and shorn
And blithely waiting.
Will feed on corn
And winter grain
In a straw-warm barn.

And you, with
Youth's eyes
Intent with queries,
Focus on
Your coming seasons,
When the nest's
No longer home,
When the wool
Has yet to grow,
And the barn
Has lost its glow
And cannot
Keep you
Warm.

Greet opportunity,
It's a subtle wink;
And briefer than
One may think.
Hitch your wagon
To a star,
And leave earthly woes
Behind.