The reasons for seasons we thought to be true,
the summer so bright and so blue
and winter with splintering cold and the ice,
Spring bringing freshness and it's nice that the ice melts away in the warmth of an early spring day.
Thoughts turn to Autumn,I've seen them and bought them,brought them home and then sought somewhere to hide them,can't bide them,
but that too has a place in the race for renewal and it's cruel for me to leave it 'til last.

For me,
Winter will always be best
the most testing of times,
when men become men and build snowmen,with buttons for eyes and a carrotty nose
and if the wind blows which is so often the case
there's a space by the fireside,where cold toes wrinkle and crinkle and hide by the doggie that lays on the floor.

Season's
I adore all of them,the blending and bending,never ending of life mixed with death but it's the winter that breathes the
breath into me.

Thanks Graham Robinson for the idea.