Seasons

Seasons

A Poem by Justin Littlefield
"

Let nature live and last. Let it change itself and us.

"
Green garments clothe Nature, our matron fair
Lush is she, embellished by floral hues
Fine fabrics of the forest, flowers in her hair
Eyes comprised of skies, bright bountiful blues

To hear the sweet tweet of the meadowlark
Rivers rushing, let loose from frozen snow
Countless crickets chirping tunes to the dark
From seed to sprout to stigma flowers grow

The old man edifies the vibrant child
Letting him learn the lessons of the lakes
Cast out to catch the trout about the wild
Patience, to wait until as long time takes

When all has grown, our matriarch shall bask
As she sits ‘neath the cottoned solar range 
Breathing the breeze, too complacent to ask
Why temperatures steadily seem to change

Zebras herd beside oxen to survive
In legions, antelope converge for thirst
Their dense droves will keep progeny alive
Till stalking prides from shadowed midst shall burst

The young man sees others escaping heat
Salvation in that lake where catch he chased
Be memory and fervency replete
He helped pollute the water with his waste

Her boundless bundled tress, she sheds with shame
Landscapes wrought red, crimson remnants downpour
Stripped of costume, exposed, she shows her frame
Lewd men come to ravish, calling it war

The bird retreats to better atmospheres
The bear pillaging caverns, claiming home
Preparing for the winter as it nears
For soon shall it be barren where they roam

Man masquerades through all realms he visits
And settles where domain shan’t his right be
Not minding that his lake is off limits,
They whom prohibit reign, he is not free.

Alas, our mother thins in attrition
Old and dying, a guise of silver stone
At last, we grieve for her cold condition
In vain, for we have plundered her to bone

Scarce are species when motley meadows pale
Hiding from climatic insurrection
They hibernate through hurricanes of hail
Awaiting the advent resurrection

Once more, the old man returns to the loch
Cast out to catch the trout about the tarn
A child intrigued comes close to sit and talk
Patience is something with but time he’ll learn

© 2015 Justin Littlefield


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Reviews

To be able to write in such a way is a gift.

Posted 4 Years Ago


A very well crated poem. There is a time and place for everything.

Posted 4 Years Ago


The circle of life... defined, abused, restored.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Beautiful journey and thoughts shared in the poetry.
"Once more, the old man returns to the loch
Cast out to catch the trout about the tarn
A child intrigued comes close to sit and talk
Patience is something with but time he’ll learn"
You create many places and visions in the words. The above lines are true ending for the most of us. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote


Posted 4 Years Ago


Justin Littlefield

4 Years Ago

Thank you for the kind review coyote. I am always privileged to have your feedback, and to know you .. read more
Coyote Poetry

4 Years Ago

You are welcome. I enjoyed your work.

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593 Views
4 Reviews
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Added on June 13, 2015
Last Updated on June 14, 2015
Tags: nature, seasons, spring, summer, fall, autumn, winter, change

Author

Justin Littlefield
Justin Littlefield

Las Vegas, NV



About
I'm Justin, 24 years old, out of Las Vegas, NV. I've been writing for as long as I can remember, it matured with me, became something entwined in my spirit. Reading almost any piece of mine you may de.. more..

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