These Final Seasons

consecrate this forest glade
that the black ashes of my heart
may rest forever in the shade
and of all the seasons here impart
under winter’s frozen clothes
and the sparkled springtime thaw
to sleep through summer’s golden glows
and autumn’s fall for evermore.

The New Season

still is the season of you
yet behind the shadows
thrown by your sunrise
a storm may awaken.

bright is your season
but can it be
that even azure skies
wait on ominous clouds.

new is this season
birthed as it is
‘tween spring and summer
though old as lost winter.

silent is this season
broken only by prayers
sung by little birds
hoping you never end.

Storm Song

a storm is singing
arias of lost autumn
in the key of spring

Heather

In the early autumn days
around the moors burned by the sun
we’d gather heather flowers to pay
our mourning dues to all that’s gone
hung to keep their ghosts at bay
all through the longer eves that come
fair perfume’s offerings to pray
those winter gods’ communions

Summer’s End

the summer is gone
it spins away in the silver flashes
of a spider’s web
caught in the rays
of the fading June sun.

The Butterfly Returns

has the vanished butterfly returned
painted sentinel to the hope of spring
did our sacrifice in winter earn
the blessing of the new sun on his wings

Last Year : Five Haiku

grant me one summer
where the breeze smells of lilac
as the sun descends

grant me an autumn
golden in the early dawn
while nightingales sing

grant me a winter
of hearths warm with contentment
to welcome the nights

grant me one more spring
to wake with the first blossoms
gilding cherry trees

grant me one last year
seasons filled with happiness
in your embraces.

No More Winters (unfinished)

I long not to see the winter
but think on summer’s past
and in the fall my memory
of sunshine’s kiss would last.
so let me die in Autumn
as would a fallen leaf
that September’s sunsets
may paint gold any grief
and bury me in skies of grey
under trees with which rain rings
to soften earth in readiness
for me to sleep ’til spring.

Leaves Outside My Window

stricken are the fallen leaves
yet not with existential pain
though unlike us who Autumn fear
with joy that life will rise again
in glory be their golden ends
as they become one with all things
no sacrifice is theirs to spend
they resurrect as doth the Spring

The Last Seasons

consecrate this forest glade
that the black ashes of my heart
may rest forever in the shade
and of all seasons here impart
under winter’s frozen clothes
and the sparkled springtime thaw
to sleep through summer’s golden glows
and autumn’s fall for evermore.