Of Seasons and Soul

Along the sun-drenched roadside, the children play,
As once the winged energy of delight
Swept through the heart, igniting fleeting day—
A hymn of youth, too radiant for night.

At the brink of dusk, when silence sings,
Autumn drapes the world in golden hues.
Each autumn day, its whispered offerings
Prepare the heart for winter’s solemn news.

Before summer rain, a stillness grows,
Behind the blameless trees, the clouds conspire.
The black cat prowls where twilight softly glows,
Its eyes like embers, mirroring fire.

Blank joy in glory fills the child in red,
As innocence adorns the fleeting hour.
Yet childhood wanes, a fragile thread,
Its echoes trembling with a tender power.

Death calls in early spring, when buds appear,
An encounter in the chestnut-scented air.
Evening cloaks the world in sorrows near,
And evening love songs thread the starry flare.

Exposed on the cliffs of the heart, I stand,
Where waves of longing crash in endless tide.
“Extinguish my eyes,” I once had planned,
Yet falconry of hope will not subside.

A fall day’s light burns soft but deeply still,
And falling stars mark time’s relentless flight.
The fear of the inexplicable will
Fade in fire’s reflection, warm and bright.

A girl in love walks softly, dreams profound;
The girl’s lament: her joy, a fragile thing.
God speaks to each of us, in every sound,
Yet going blind, we fail to hear Him sing.

In love-talk, the past truths unfold;
The art of growing old is bittersweet.
Heartbeat by heartbeat, memories retold
Carve sacred patterns, endless and complete.