Four Stages of Earth

It begins in early March,

when snow melts and spring 

flows into the green fields.

Birds chirp to send away the freeze.

Starting with the warm breeze,

then flowers blaze in color.

When summer arrives,

everything is revived.

Cicadas crouch 

on a green canopy. 

Kids sit beneath the shade

and touch the sizzling air.

Not far from the shade,

the burning fireball hovers above

smooth textures of a fine beach.

On trees, the thirst-quenching coconuts dangle.

Cooler, and cooler, and cooler.

Now,  of shedding and harvest,

       of leaves with dry edges and crackling textures

       falling down down down, of accumulation

       of the shingling sound 

       of sweeping and blowing.

Then, when

I open the window,

    patterns of flakes make a thick

quilt of white 

warming the ground.

                 From this perch, God's view, I look upon her 

outlines fading in the melting

                 —that's how it goes.