Young I was sweet spring of April,
Snowless rain and buds of future.
Steeped in timeless trees which sheltered
The youth of my enchanted wonder.
‘Til aged I found in glorious summer,
I fed my muse and adult hungers.
Moved across the sunlit chapters
August comes, and what comes after.
Longer days from shortened nights,
shift again in later life.
And come upon the cooling autumn,
Where winds slice clean the hours of sunshine.
In the depths of gold September,
I turn my thoughts to those of shelter.
When in the cold of deepest winter,
Behold the hearth of late December.
And as I lay in earthen slumbers.
My dreams do fade, extinguished embers.