Life would be static, dull and boring without seasons;
So seasons come for varied and outstanding reasons:
The trees at appointed time would shed their leaves
And men would dump their anoraks for shirtsleeves.
The clouds are burdened and blighted now is the sun
Just as the moon slips into her convent and soberly becomes a nun;
Childhood gallops gaily into youth and its thrills
But youth dreads adulthood as they say its end chills.
Dread it or not – an ever open book remains age;
And everyone each year must read that brand new page.
Yes, life’s an exciting book which we must turn over a new leaf –
[Changes dog our every step every blessed day we live;
But like lizards we must keep sloughing off our old skins,]
Aligning ourselves with the ever changing tale that life spins.