Posts Tagged ‘seasons’


The sights and sounds of nature
are sweet this time of year.
Scarlet, gold, and saffron tones
announce a change in seasons.
Winging geese form chevron patterns
in a blue enamel sky,
honking their goodby song,
until spring bursts forth next year.
Crickets find their way inside
and settle near my hearth.
They’ll pester us with strident songs
when winter snow is high.
The pungent smell of burning leaves
lends credence to the scene,
as curls of blue smoke fill the air,
and scent the autumn months.
Sluggish bees cling where they can,
cleaning their tired wings.
No longer prone to use their sting,
they’ll exist on succulent
amber drops of hive-honey.
Daddy-longlegs cluster-up
in tangles, for warmth.
Abundant in crevices of doors
and windows, they look like discarded
wads of black sewing threads.
Slow-motion is the essence
of this time of languor,
once again cloaking the land
in colorful autumn robes.
God’s glorious gift of nature.

6/6/95 Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

6’th … Indiana NPD 1995

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Summer flaunts its mighty splendor
As it paints the heavens red —
Polishes up the diamond skies
And full moon overhead.

Then morning opens up its eyes
At the sun’s first golden ray
The world awakens, to enjoy
A marvelous summer day

It scatters flowers everywhere
Across earth’s counterpane,
And ripples small drowsy streams
With warm gentle rain.

There’s sweet melodic melodies
By scores of nesting birds,
Joined by frog’s percussion beats – –
And all it lacks are words.

The scent of lilac’s rich perfume
Floats softly on the air …
All part of summer’s sweet caress.
God’s gift of summer fare

8/8/05 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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Green shoots and delicate blossoms

          Make “Awakening Spring” , Act One

An expectant time in seasons

          For new life has just begun


Act Two is “Summer’s Balmy Days”,       

          With robes of emerald green

Sun kissing beautiful flowers

          Rainbows completing the scene


The curtain opens on Act Three

          “Autumn’s Colorful Pageantry”,

With splashes of reds and yellows

          Resplendent on every tree


Act Four, and the final curtain

          Brings us “Winter’s Wanton Winds”,

And her frosty ermine blankets

          The production finally ends


But nature never seems to tire,

          For each year she starts anew,

And behind a brand new curtain

          Each season awaits its cue.


10/30/88    Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

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Fall’s Debut


Wood smoke sifts through crimson leaves,

Webs wear crystal frost,

Announcing changing seasons and

A summer that is lost.


2/19/95        Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck


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They stood there, just the two of them.

A tear fell from her eye.

Life makes unfortunate changes,

And this time ’twas good-bye.


“To you, Old House,” he tipped his hat,

“You sheltered me and mine.

You weren’t much to gaze upon,

But served our needs just fine.”


She leaned her head against his arm,

He stroked her wrinkled cheek.

Tears were making it rather hard

For them to even speak.


She closed her eyes, then memory

Returned her to the past,

When as a bride she entered here —

Seems time flew by so fast.


“Old House, if you could only speak,”

She said, with heavy heart,

“We’d reminisce about the years,

From now, back to the start.


Your walls were arms around us.

They kept us warm and dry

And shared our joys and heartaches

As years went rushing by.


Is that a tear I see, Old House,

Trickling down your pane?

A skeptic would dismiss it

As just a bit of rain.


But I know you weep, Old House,

Your days are numbered, too,

And time is short for each of us,

It pains me, but it’s true.


You know your life is over.

Ours nears that time, too,

But, oh, weren’t they wonderful,

Those years we shared with you?”


 Then turning to the man, she said,

“I’m sure the Old House speaks.

It said it’s glad we lived here.”  

He replied, “It only creaks.”


“But if it had a voice,” she said,

“It would beg us, not to leave.

It would shelter us ’til death comes,

Then we would not grieve.”


“My Dear,” he said, “It’s time to go.

Let’s do it without fuss.

We raised a fine family here,

Now they’ll take care of us


I know it’s hard to leave our home,

And it doesn’t matter when,

But wouldn’t it have been far worse,

Had house and years not been?”


He took her hand — they turned away —

They smiled through their tears.

“To you, Old House,” he said once more,

“Thanks for all those years.”


7/21/90 –   Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck


1’st … Ark.N.P.D. 1994

2’nd … N.F.S.P.S. 1994

2’nd … Ind.N.P.D. 1995

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