Ode to Seasons

Rose would have loved an 'ode to rhubarb'; I opted for an ode to seasons because my personal relationship with rhubarb has not inspired an ode-worthy response. 

Maybe, however, after trying her Rhubarb-strawberry Scone recipe (which looks amazing), 

I might burst forth in a rhubarb-hallelujah ode😋

They rouse in humankind the luxury of ‘likelihood’

We wait, like children at a gate; they garnish field and wood

…and orchard slopes and garden nooks with hope’s rekindled flame

As season yields to season; each with its own claim to fame

Time’s invitation to glad expectation is a gift

An elemental kaleidoscope of colour set adrift

Where we, the meek recipients of nature’s bursting loom

Collect ribbons of rainbow tossed to fruit and flower-plume

Ho, ho, the ebb and flow of dawn to dusk turns a grand wheel

It seals with hold-and-letting-go fond echoes to a reel

Where, in thought’s tender looking back we learn to look ahead

And revel in each season’s joy rather than doleful dread

The lamplighter of laughter through the aftermath of years

Keeps the hunger of youth intact though its face disappears

And keens with humble, holy gratefulness our touch and taste

Knowing how soon the boon of Season yields to moment-haste 

A free-for-all fine festival of fare to celebrate

A work of art to cheer the heart or common dinner plate

A Hallelujah-hymn, where branches brim then dim until

The barren tree etched on rose dusk rouses a sad, sweet thrill

© Janet Martin