A spring buttercup blossoms from seedling to petal
Far far away from the works of stone and metal
Of those with intent of destruction of Nature
Asleep to those powers of Hers that are greater

A summer rose sprouts from the soil of Her earth
A beautiful daughter of petals takes birth
Majesty calls with each rustling wind
Through the trees high above around cities that sinned

An autumn marigold seeds stories untold
The words of a flower in colours so bold
Holding firm through tough seasons, Her grace the true reason
The powers of earth ever young and yet old

A winter mistletoe uplifted in snow
A kiss from a season so few truly know
Cities huddle indoors, by a fire in fear
Of the most barren of seasons those of Hers hold so dear


Penned by my hand on the 20th of Mayan, in the year 932 AF.