Song of Seasons

by Irene Zimmerman

There is a song I have to sing

of summer, fall, winter, spring—

of elm tree shadows' cooling bath,

hollyhocks along a path,

fireflies lighting up the air,

and clouds at sunrise blossoming ;

of crunchy curl of autumn leaves,

field mice hiding in corn sheaves,

acres of wheat laid neatly bare,

and squirrels and me nut-gathering;

of stars of snow, pearls of hills,

frost trees framed by window sills,

blue spruce incensing the air,

and icicles that grow and ping;

of minty grass too short to mow,

pasture creeks gurgling hello,

willows combing out their hair,

and apple blossoms on the wing.

There is a song I love to sing

of summer, fall, winter, spring—

a yearly gift of seasoning.

© Irene Zimmerman