Our Mothers Four Faces

Each year ends with snows fresh white fall, 

bringing Jack Frost’s chill and good times for all. 

Whether you enjoy carving grooves into a powdery hill, 

or cuddling by a fire staying ever so still. 

The Holidays come and leave us with joy, 

and New Years begin with resolutions to deploy. 

Shortly there after we find flowers in bloom, 

the birds have returned and sunshine fills the room. 

The fields are greener it seems than before, 

the windows all opened even the door. 

The year is half over but half still remains, 

nothing is better than summers warm rain. 

The days are long packed full of heat, 

the pool with your loved ones can never be beat. 

Leaves begin to trick us with changing their face, 

falling from their branches all over the place. 

Quickly their green becomes brighter than gold, 

this process is perfect ancient and old. 

Our mother has perfected the seasons with ease, 

she paints these colors for her children to please. 

She loves us always unconditionally and true, 

she’ll punish us swiftly if she feels she has to. 

We take from her life to give to our own, 

come the end of our journey we all return home. 

Our mother welcomes us arms wide as can be, 

she waits for her children, for you and for me.

 

Reviews

[Angela]

"This process is perfect, ancient and old" It truly is. Love the metaphorical use of changing seasons and the so called circle of life. Also, perfect title. Can't wait to delve a little deeper into your writing.