Seasons come and seasons go
Yet the one thing that I know
Is how we look on nature’s gift
Depends on age for views to shift.
The small child is wild to touch and explore
Rolling in mud, grappling with the shore
A little older and nature must bend to our will
We’ll dam that creek, build a treehouse, yet still
Within a few years we’ve a billboard attention span
We want snow to ski and sun for our tan
As adults nature is no longer our friend
With the hard drive, stapler, phone and car we contend
But then a mature instinct takes flower
Our gardens, the season’s pure beauty gain power
’till finally with age wonders great and small we face
And appreciate within this bounty we have a place.
—Terri Martin
23 June
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