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Mother Nature’s Rhythm

Seasons, Transitions and Rhythms

By Colleen Millsteed Published 4 years ago 1 min read
Mother Nature’s Rhythm
Photo by Mario Dobelmann on Unsplash

For thirty years I lived in the North of Australia

There were only ever two seasons in the North,

That is the Wet Season and the Dry Season

Both self explanatory for what it’s worth.

***

I relocated further South a number of years ago

To suddenly find myself once more experiencing,

Four seasonal changes throughout the year

Nature’s transitions were once again a thing.

***

As each season transitioned into another

I realised how much I’d missed Autumn and Spring,

As the Wet and Dry Seasons changed overnight

It was glorious the transition four seasons bring.

***

There are those obvious months of the year

That would seperate Winter and Summer,

Months where nature would slowly transition

Stalling the heat or cold, letting you recover.

***

Surprisingly it took quite some time to acclimatise

I’d lived for years in the two season natural rhythm,

To rediscover the milder days of Autumn and Spring

Witnessing the changing of the leaves, such a vision.

***

Unfortunately my natural rhythms suffer in the cold

Even in the far North there would be Dry Season nights,

You would find me complaining about the chilly air

So the southern winters are more struggle than delight.

***

The change over from Dry to Wet Season in the North

Was akin to a traditional and celebratory re-birth,

You’d feel cleansed of all your stress and worries

While watching as the rain fell and nourished the earth.

***

It’s not as noticeable in the South with four seasons

As the transition into each season is more gentle,

While Mother Nature imbues us with cool sunny days

Before the extreme heat or cold becomes monumental.

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Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

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Originally posted on Medium

nature poetry

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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Outstanding

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