Four Pane Window
by Robbie Lee Blanchard
Looking through the bright clear wall,
I note the seasons, Spring through Fall.
A story of life I can feel, see, and hear,
A glorious life that lasts but a year.
Upper left, the buds arupt with a singing bird,
Melted snow flows down the river I heard.
Warmer now, there are kids at play.
Planting crops on this rejuvinating day.
Upper right, it's hot, and lush green now,
So many shades against a mostly white cow.
Campfires at the lake, barbecues and fishing rods.
Gardens with tomatoes, corn, and pea pods.
Lower left, it's cooler now, leaves orange and red,
Cornstalks, pumpkins, witches fly overhead.
Farmers harvest, hunting deer, during this time of thanks,
Raking leaves and turning soil, along the river banks.
Lower right, a bitter time, but skis and sleds prevail.
A fire warms the Christmas tree from wind, ice, and hail.
Flurries mixed with icicles and angels in the snow,
Another year has past us, just where did the days go?
So, start again this cycle, of which the seasons turn,
Watch it very carefully and maybe you will learn.
They're bookmarks, times to revelate, reflections if you will,
Without them, you can hardly see, and barely can fullfill.