The Beauty of a Year


The time is now, the blooming period of the year.
I sit in my grove, in awe of Nature's majesty.
Greenery of such clarity it sucks my breath away.
The gentleness of the breeze bringing a tear to my eye.
Water runs calmly, ebbing and flowing with the slow pace of life.
Beckoning all lifeforms to turn and welcome each other.
Lush canopies lethargically catching the suns' rays.
As I lay blissfully upon my hammock.

Temperatures rising, as summer begins,
Time for all to go out and play.
Now I sit placidly reading a book,
And my mouth whispers long forgotten words.
Embellished lands thriving on the suns,
Ushering a new age of growth.
A lions' roar excites the warrior,
And the student scribes of joy and truth.

Harvest hour, once again, raises the crops and hearts.
The foliage slipping into golds, oranges and reds.
"You shall reap what you sow," they say,
Now it is time to see if it is true.
Sipping on warm cider and clutching my ruby pendant,
My feet carry me towards the teachings of the sly fox.

Cloak wrapped around me, the cruel winds blow,
Icing even the warmest sun ray to the core.
The time for rest after the yield,
A fierce and rugged wolf creeping to its prey.
Stay in the heat of a cozy fire,
Burn your incense of myrrh.
Snow becomes a natural blanket,
Crystalline coating on the motionless lands,
And empty trees.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Bellum, in the year 533 AD.