In fall it’s dying that brings color. Many photographs are taken from the leaves that fall. Wood is stacked and jars are sealed. We only the begin this change.
Winter brings cold and scares the living out of some. When first appear it’s laughing that we hear. In the end your glad we’re done.
Spring is life but at times with a price. Without the showers there would be no flowers. Fresh is only a feeling that has become. Yet it’s the blooms that remove gloom for some.
Summer with rays of light. Maybe to hot for some but dreaded by no one. Only on a bad day do I take the fun away. The fruits this time taste so fine.
Writing this while watching the movie The Hateful Eight really did not help. But it was the best I could do. Ran out of rhymes and time for this.