Angel of the Seasons

I lie down in a littering of leaves

And stretch my body wide.

I sink to the bottom of the ocean’s depth

And starfish I am against the sand

I sink into the deepest snow blanketed on the ground

And then I move my arms and legs up and down

Until an angel I have found.

Angel of summer- water lapping flapping wings.

Angel of autumn – leaves in flight.

Angel of winter – crusted webbed wings of ice.

And spring, where is she, scented angel of flowers and green?

She dances in the meadow intoxicated on her release.

You can hear her even now in this empty bowl

Of this burdensome gray, it’s like a howl

That rips through the bare nakedness

And the boughs bend to snapping

As she shakes the last leaves to rattle sha sha sha sha sha


Then the howl softens, it becomes a yawn

Like a stretching awake as she shoots her arms and legs green

And blooming once again, the resurrection.

Angel of spring – a birthing bouquet, baby’s breath, fragrant sweet.

Written by Lydia Griffith, all rights reserved. Please do not copy or plagiarize. (Photo of drawing by Beatrice Connell, age 3)