Poetry about nature and seasons

Rain
Rain, rain, wonât you stay?
The sun will come another day.
Come quench the thirst of trees and plants
Tapping on the roof in a gentle dance.
Rain, rain, wonât you stay?
Youâve dyed the sky a lovely gray.
Thunder and lightning make a show
I really would hate for you to go.
Rain, rain, wonât you stay?
The sun will come another day
Come feed the flowers and the trees
And take their thirst away.

Magic Skies
Red and orange give the sun a goodnight kiss
The moon rises from horizon to see what heâs missed
The stars sparkle when I look at them
And nightâs just about to begin.

Dusted with glitter is the velvet sky
When you look up to see the airplanes fly
The day starts to fade
Goes down a shade
And all today is put away

You feel the heat start to relax
The blazing sun is tucked away to nap
The moonâs a diamond
The world is silent
Just for a moment when
The summer night grandly begins.

Summer Nostalgia
Those skies of pastel blue and white
With memories forlorn
They incite in me the deep nostalgia
That makes my heart feel torn.
When the sun set on the beach
Turning the water gold
How brilliant the world had seemed
How colorful and bold.
When I would run across the sand on scorching days
And felt the salty water, cool like ice
The world was a lucid, vivid place
How beautiful, how nice.
When I had pink-stained sunburned cheeks
And put my summer sundress on
When we grew lazy from the heat
When life didnât feel so wrong.
Now I have things to fret about
And have no more perfect summer days
Now my heart is filled with the nostalgia
Of summertimes gone away.

Deep Green Trees
If a forest were just like the sea
Instead of water, trees and leaves
At its beginning itâs shallow and small
Tiny trees not very tall
Small grasses and patches of moss
On them, mushrooms and flowers emboss
With little squirrels and rabbits, chipmunks and larks
Few venture past the forestâs start.
Walk on, daring to explore
The grounds blanketed with feuillemort
The trees grow more like ugly witches
Some dead and hollow, branches wicked
Careful not to disturb the bushes rustling
Or swat at the strange insects hovering.
The canopy grows thick and dense
And still you walk on, slightly tenseâ¦
The soilâs made of decaying humus
The air grows damp, misty and brumous
You breathe in the scents of bark and moss
And suddenly you feel quite lost
Deep in the forest, murky and silent
Where itâs eerily dark and deadly silent
Until thereâs a crunching in the leavesâ¦
If the forest were just like the sea

Allergies
Just when the spring has sprung in color
It feels like a lovely entrance for summer
A treeâs leaves bud in all their splendor
Allergies are such a bummerâ¦

Flowers
Flowers are tied like bows onto trees
Flowing like ribbons in a warm spring breeze
They shoot up from the ground in spirited blossoms
From the rare and astounding to the modest ones, common
They give color to the mottled green and brown earth
As they cast off the gray winter and give the spring birth
In the shimmering sun they glisten and sway
Flowers give springtime a resplendent bouquet.

Ode To The Water Cycle
Undeniable, reliable
You are what makes our lives so full.
Oh, without you where would we be
With congested clouds and stagnant seas?
Carrying on endlessly
Without you, how boring it would seem!
With no rushing, gushing rapid streams!
Why, youâre simply rife
Brimming with wildlife
Micro plankton, hulking whales,
Things with flippers, beaks, and scales
Rainbow coral, slimy snails.
And you let is all run seamlessly smooth
Oh, where would we be without you?
Where would we be without the rain?
Snow, sleet, hail, things that precipitate
You seem so beautiful, so complex,
That in such an ode, I only bet,
Iâve just gotten my feet wet.

27 Degrees
Itâs 27 Farenheit out
And forecasted for snow,
Itâs ten in the morning
But the snow has yet to show.
You walk to class and in the halls
You peer at every window
But itâs ten thirty in the morning
And the snow has yet to show.
Bitter winds blow and thick gray clouds
Block out the winter sun
But itâs eleven in the morning
And the snow has yet to come.
The worldâs a blustering, frigid place
Where nothing but late geese call
But itâs eleven thirty
And the snow has yet to fall.
Finally, at twelve oâclock
We crowd up at the window
Finally, the snow is falling
The dancing flakes make such a show!

Rosy Cheeks
In the winter when the streets are lined
With crisp and stark white snow
Your cheeks turn a rosy rubicund color
As theyâre buffeted with winds of cold.
In the spring when a jolly sun
Wakes up from its winter dozing
Your cheeks are peach with the utter joy
From the symphony of your heartâs composing.
In summertime when the blazing sun
Gives your cheeks a warm incarnadine glows
You spend hours upon in the verdant backyard
Where oak trees tower and green grass grows.
In the autumn when you wake up for school
And stuff your brand-new locker
You find yourself blushing over some new crush
And looking and feeling so awkward.
Rosy cheeks are always in season
No matter circumstances or reason.

Seasons
The sun emerges from a rain light and steady
Petals and pollen are natureâs confetti
To celebrate a season so vivacious and bright
With efflorescence wherever touches the light
Chipper birds serenade, croon, and sing
In the flourishing fascination of spring.

In a sweltering heat like that of an oven
Joyous memories shape by the dozen
Where wasps and bees and mosquitos abound
Makes a season with charm and charisma profound
For in summer, you again are a child
Free to be reckless, unbridled and wild.

Browns, oranges, purples and pines
Help you to savor the bits of sunshine
That will fade into rarity in a month or two
So autumn benevolently gives you
A pallet of comfort in the hues of the leaves
As they tumble and topple on a houseâs eaves.

In a season sacredly white and austere
With only soft crunching of footsteps to hear
Come winds icy and stark, chilling you to the bone
Winter seems unparalleled and alone
In its beauty, severe and seeming eternal
In a silent white world, asleep and hibernal.