
April showers bring May flowers
A sure sign that its Spring
The Wellies come out
For puddles no doubt
The showers also will bring
Padre
April showers bring May flowers
A sure sign that its Spring
The Wellies come out
For puddles no doubt
The showers also will bring
Padre
After days of deep freeze there has come a thaw
The snow is gone and that’s not all
For rain is falling and the sky is grey
We’re back to Autumn or it looks that way
Fallen leaves are now a muddy loam
Making it slippery on the walk home
Padre
Gold, orange, red on the horizon arrayed
And with each passing breeze they begin their cascade
Making a carpet of autumn hues
Crunching underneath our passing shoes
The beauty of nature wondrously displayed
As children await the raking,
So in the piled leaves they can wade
Padre
season’s changes bring
autumn’s mushrooms’ appearance
on damp fallen wood
Padre
The lavender is no longer in bloom
And the buddleia’s flowers are dry and gray
The trees are rich in orange and red
But brown is starting to have its way
It is that turning time of year
When chill nights follow shorter days
The neighbours ghosts and witches hang
From their garden gateways
And await the coming of the hoards
Wanting trick-or-treat to play
Padre
British Summertime came in the other day
It snowed and sleeted anyway
For most summer is filled with warm rays
But that seems optional in the UK
Today I watch the grey clouds mass
Dropping sheets of cold rain as they pass
So summertime I guess is here
The wet and chilly time of year
Padre
Spring has begun its sneaking through
Showing hope of somethings new
Dawn chorus moments amid the dew
And snowdrops are emerging too
I know it is but February
And with hopes of spring we must be wary
But maybe it can be an allusion
Of hope amid the daily news’ intrusions
Padre
Crisp and white
With a wonderful view
Sadly, not really much to do
Padre
It must be the season
As again to the weather I turn
As the sky gets wetter
And for summer I yearn
It is not that autumn colours
Aren’t at first are not nice
I just don’t like the latter part
With fog and ice
Padre