A whimsical reflection on the change of seasons |
It's Not Winter Yet The blistering heat of the summer sun, The cool fresh breeze when spring has sprung! Winter's bitter kiss of snow, An autumn sunset's lingering glow. Who claims mastery over these, To whom do seasons bend their knees? Which demi- god or apparition Is the lord of this decision? Is it Mother Nature, all alone; Issuing the order from her throne Of leaves and vines and pretty flowers, Is this one of her many powers? Does Almighty God take on this choice, Stating; "It's Winter NOW', in a booming voice. The ruler of the universal all; Does he shake the leaves to make them fall? Or is it some scientific trick; The molecules and atom's quick Transformation into matter, That heralds winter rain's first patter? But could it be a higher source, Is there truly a greater force? Do science, nature, God combined Still fall beneath The Undefined Who are these spectral forms divine? Which hands yield the seasonal line? Can they be understood by man? Do they form a greater plan? No! They are just like me and you, They simply have a job to do. The mantle which they have taken on Is: 'When do I switch the heating on!' |