The Circling Year
The joys of living wreathe my face, My heart keeps time to freshet's race; Of balmy airs I drink my fill— Why, there's a yellow daffodil! Along the stream a soft green tinge Gives hint of feathery willow fringe; Methinks I heard a Robin's "Cheer"— I'm glad Spring's here!
An afternoon of buzzing flies. Heat waves that sear, and quivering rise; The long white road, the plodding team, The deep, cool grass in which to dream; The distant cawing of the crows, Tall, waving grain, long orchard rows; The peaceful cattle in the stream— Midsummer's dream!
A cold, gray day, a lowering sky, A lonesome pigeon wheeling by; The soft, blue smoke that hangs and fades, The shivering crane that flaps and wades; Dead leaves that, whispering, quit their tree, The peace the river sings to me; The chill aloofness of the Fall— I love it all!
A sheet of ice, the ring of steel, The crunch of snow beneath the heel; Loud, jingling bells, the straw-lined sleigh, A restless pair that prance and neigh; The early coming of the night, Red glowing logs, a shaded light; The firelit realm of books is mine— Oh, Winter's fine!
Illustration • Sacred Circle of Seasons • Julene Ewert