Seasons of the Poet

How easily the poetry used to flow and where it’s gone I no longer know

Fall caused a pause in time, I guess its so

I waited for it in the winters snow, Also through the spring time glow

Summer suns they come and go

And then the heavens did return my poetic flow

Like the seasons of change we ebb and grow

Old wounds heal with the good seeds we sow

As the winds changes directions as they blow

I sit and watch the flowers grow.