Poems About Seasons

A collection of poems about the seasons

“Seasons”

Summer is a time to be romanced by humans,

But fall is a time to be romanced by the earth.

“Spring Fever”

The air smelled like an inflatable pool

Filling up with a cold garden hose,

In the slippery wet grass of mid-March.

Of soapy bubble trays and sticky wands,

And dusty sidewalk chalk, and sprinkler systems.

It smelled like trying to wear shorts and tank tops

Before it was actually warm enough.

It smelled like sunny goose bumps,

And the beginnings of catching fireflies,

And the whisper of fresh blooms,

And the hint of walking barefoot,

And the promise of new life.

None of these things could be seen,

But the scent in the air

Gave away the cyclical, never-ending,

Inevitable future.

“Springtime Haiku”

First day-break is here.

Sprinklers spurt to watery life.

Eager young sun burns.

Fresh earth is dug up.

Soil is cut, and pruned, and groomed.

Garden worms wiggle.

Sidewalk chalk drawings.

Garden hoses fill up pools.

Kids squeal: “lemonade!”

“Fall”

Fall and I are a lot alike.

We are both chill,

We are both too short,

We both wear a lot of orange,

And both smell like apples.

“September”

I miss those boho blanket days.

Take me back to golden September,

When the sun set right on time,

And the air sat nicely on my skin.

When my body was free of aches and pains,

And my mind free of stress,

Of the end drawing near,

Able to bask in the wonder

Of life’s simple pleasures.

When I felt like I could run forever,

And jump as high as I wanted to.

When time stood still for moments like these,

Gazing into a picture,

Delighting my taste buds,

Embracing adventure,

Flirting with spontaneity,

Falling in love.

Take me back to September,

The best month of my year.

“November”

Beautiful November,

Amber and red.

The trees look like honey,

The water moves like silk,

And the air tastes like the sentiment

Of annual change.

“Summertime”

A fresh spirit awoke in her

With nature’s lively breath.

Her heart leapt with the wind on the wake.

And smiling,

She watched the heads of her strawberries

Bob in the gentle waves.

“Summer Nights”

Silky waters, drippy sun,

Drunken trees, havin’ fun.

Summertime, we don’t care,

Mischievous humid in the air.

A blanket on our quirks and smirks,

Breeding frisk and mosquito chirps.