A Change Of Seasons Poem by Bryan Taplits

Four Seasons are there still
for me to still enjoy
Four seasons have met me
since once I was a boy.
But these days I am more focused
on the Seasons' handy bandy schemes,
For now I feel them-
and am more affected-
By all their damaging extremes.

My weathered soul admits it
(No longer
can it be restored) ,
Fall's blowing storms and dying leaves
Are portents of what's in store.
Yes, Fall is the Season-
That I quiver and dread the most -
Its layaway is just months away-
It's where I become the toast.
It never fails to portend-
with its savory cheeky ways-
It often softens me,
With drowsy seductive days.
Yes, Winter is a challenge-
with it's snow and ice filled bloat,
but Fall causes my imagination
to bend and sway-then coat.

But now it is November
And I'm looking at the snow,
As Dec&Jan&Feb-
and sometimes March-
march toward me,
each coming toe to toe.
Yet today I am much nearer
As I glance at my Springtime fickled swain,
Winter will pass
and later months will be leaping forward by me-
Soon to pass March's chilly stubborn frame.