The Seasons and Their Servants

How I envisioned the seasons when I was younger and more innocent.

Sowing the Seeds of Springtime’s serenity

Into sequestered adventurers from the city,

Who have fabulously faltered in heart and candor,

Are the ancient authors of Resurgent Ardor.

 

Basking in the most awesome alpenglow,

Through glorious gales and sorrowful snow

Perpetually is the Choir of Wilderness,

Singing Summer’s sonnets to the villages.

 

Enticing all voyagers to come across

Seas of frost to know Autumn’s awe

Are the seraphs of Gaia’s merriment,

With promises of wealthy inheritance.

 

Burying the remaining relics of melancholy,

With Winter’s wisdom and spectacular stories,

Within celebration and timeless tradition

Are the fauna of Dionysus’s jubilation.

 

This is the story of the Seasons and their servants,

And how from the essence they purge every sepulchral serpent.

Author's Note

I would say this is a rewrite of a much older poem I wrote years ago, but actually, this poem is only one of two that I have not altered outside of improving the grammar a bit (and changing one word). That's because one, it's maybe one of my only older poems that I feel hold up in quality, and two, for the purpose of the story this poetry book is telling, I need at least some poetry that captures the childlike purity I once had. Enjoy :)