Saturday, December 4, 2010

Each Season is Special

A couple of months ago, when I wrote about my love for autumn, I never imagined that I could feel equally as emotional about a wintry day. But as I drove home from an appointment today, I realized I could.

It was 27 degrees; a fine snow swirled all around my car. I felt like I was inside a snow globe. It was mesmerizing! To my surprise, I was also quite taken with the beauty of the naked trees standing gracefully on surrounding hillsides… the same trees I had been in awe of in October when they were fully clad in magnificent colors.  

I suppose every season has some merit. I must have been aware of this all my life because I recently came across a poem I had written many years ago, when I was very young. It expresses strong emotions about the changing seasons. 


To go away in summer would be more than I could bear,
With sky of blue and grass so green and flowers everywhere;
Children playing, running, laughing, frolicking in the pool
So happy that it’s summer and they are out of school.

I couldn’t leave in winter—impossible I know,
For then I’d miss the beauty of the softly falling snow,
And the twinkle of the streetlights upon the ground so white,
That makes a winter wonderland in the stillness of the night.

To take leave in the springtime would surely be a crime,
For there’s a new beginning each and every time.
Trees budding, birds singing, breezes softly swaying—
“Spring is here,” it’s very clear, that’s what they’re all saying.

Departure in the autumn would be too sad for me
‘Cause I would like to stay around to make sure that I see
The glistening of a frosty morn, a pumpkin wet with dew,
And marvel at the leaves that fall, each one a different hue.

When my time is all used up and I must go from here, 
I’m glad that it’s not up to me to pick the time of year. 
Each season is quite special—summer, winter, spring and fall,
So if I had to choose one, I would not go at all!

“Not exactly Emily Dickinson or Elizabeth Barrett Browning,” I thought, “but rather intense for a young girl of only fifteen years.”

Suddenly feeling very grateful, I bowed my head and thanked God for blessing me with the sensitivity—even at such a young age—to appreciate the beauty of His creation, for the inherent ability to express my awe-inspired feelings, and for the gift of contentment during each of life’s wondrous seasons. 


pam said...

This is so beautiful Peggy. you make winter seem not so bad. Love the poem!

sam said...

do you ever run out of beautiful things to write about peg? I really like this one. sam

Anonymous said...

This is nice peg. wish I could express myself like you do.