Seasons are fleeting
Though they return
Their beauty shifts
Transforms before us
And we accept
That nothing remains
Change will take
Even that breath
We catch today
Tomorrow all
May be ash
And all shall turn to dust
In the eventual
Cruelty
Of years
Our seasons pass
Fleet of foot
While we do not grasp
Each moment
Letting the years
Fade from our gaze
Forgotten seasons
And beauty left behind – Caroline A. Slee