To Each A Season Poem by Lonnie Hicks

Summer kisses Winter's Hands
thereby warming them
as she takes her hair
and wraps him
in the midst of the blowing gale;
her arms reach out
to his icy branches
giving a spark to each sleeping bud
awaking each from its frozen winter encasement.

But Winter's Heart
is cold indeed
whispering to her in her ministrations
'I am Winter and Winter is my fate;
from my icy cradle
Spring is born
and I must not miss her birth.'


Summer was angry.
'Am I not more fair than she?

Have I not given you solace
in your icy retreat?

Have I not offered you much more than she?

If I withdraw my succorings
where would you be? '

'I would' Winter said
'Winter be.'

With that Summer took her Golden Hair
threw it back upon her beautiful shoulders
asking herself 'Where is the gratitude? '

Winter reached with his thin cold fingers
uttering,
'Summer is too warm for me because without
my wild blizzard face I lose my Winter Grace and Winter's dignity-
becoming only melting ice;
discarded slush
snow-flake crushed
and I would wander
my melting realm
and seep into muddy ground,

gone.'

'I understand' Summer said
'Spring, when you put it that way
seems a better bride for you since

she kisses your icy buds
slowly bringing them to blossoming
and I would perhaps apply too much heat
too soon;
they would be born flower wilted


'I understand, ' she said
flying away
'yet I am still sad.'

Below
Winter held his arms high
to welcome
the smell of
Springs breezes

not knowing
Summer in coming to him
had sacrificed her own season
and lay dead
beneath Winter's snow
unknown to him;
because indeed her love was so great
she had given up
her own Summer season.