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seasonal greetings (  a  p o e m  )

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first comes that spring - the cheeky twat

its rebrands & the same old shat

its bouncing green - that gleaming brat

how do you do

i cock my hat



next summer swells with sweaty days

where nature leads our sense astray

into the glow of ways quite strange

secret handshakes

we ( shush ) exchange



then autumn calls, we briefly hug

as spores burst forth & all that stuff

fleeting - it seems to be enough

yet all must die

so on we trudge



lastly winter, my dear you're here

all the others have disappeared

we whisper waves of withered cheer

'tween precious breaths

then fades the year

...