Seasons whisper their secrets, a cyclical tale,
Leaves trust the wind, in their annual sail.
Spring's first blush, tender, coy,
Breathes life into the world, a newborn's joy.
Summer's ardor, a relentless blaze,
Commands the days with its golden gaze.
Autumn's mosaic, a slow, fiery undress,
Leaves the world in a colorful caress.
Winter's hush blankets the earth in repose,
A silent witness to the year's close.
Each season sings, in its own time, its own rhyme,
A never-ending cycle, sublime.