There is a moment when you can smell
that the Winter sleep is over
and the fresh awakening rain is Spring’s harbinger.
The plant push inevitably
brings the green touch
to the top of the soil profile
and shoves the earth quilt aside
for the first snowdrop.
There is a time in Spring
when the light fragrances of hyacinth and narcissus
have tempted Persephone back
to a delighted Demeter.
In Summer the air is heavier with honeysuckle hues.
When glare colours and treacle aromas
seduce bees to penetrate
floral colour coded spectrum petals
and find the nectar-pollen reward.
When people and insects swarm the Summer sward.
You can feel the cool touch of an air sigh
on that last Summer’s day
when August scents fade to September mildews
and Hades beckons a traded maiden back.
Fall is a nutty tumble
into raked leaf piles
and barley bundles
that tell of a harvest finale.
Provocative Indian Summers
which entice the sunning snake
and delay bonfires and drawn smoke curtains.
There is a felt day in Autumn
when mists subside and colours retreat
and nuts and fruits tumble
to the ground in storage mode—
and ploughed fields wait to awaken grain.
When a frozen finger hardens the rain
and points the chilly way to six-sided snowflakes
and brittle lakes.