Poem: Dance of the Seasons

This time, I've got a poem for you. Now, I'm not a very good poet. In truth, I hate writing poetry because it's a terrible and unpleasant process for me. When I do write (usually because my creative writing class forces me to) I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. That said, don't except this to be a great poem. Now why am I sharing it if I think it's bad? Well, even if it is bad as far as poetry goes, I feel like it's one of the better ones I've written (though I haven't written a lot). Also, it's based off of one of my favourite pieces of art: Frost Bearer by Sheila Wolk.

Source

Dance of the Seasons

She walks through fresh snow

Footprints light, barely

Brushing her toes against

Frigid powder.

Upon her head, icy

Leaves, branches, flowers,

Lace themselves down through

White hair, merging into the

Soft pearly fabric of her robe.

Icicles hang from the sleeves as

She embraces a crystal sphere;

The only colours within a white blizzard,

Glow and swirl.

Ruby, amber, and sapphire, they

Dance gracefully. Slowly, the

Shapes stretch and mold, until

Figures emerge, beautiful women

Naked and natural, never ceasing

To dance.

Scarlet and golden leaves poke out

From the hair of the ruby woman,

In the amber’s: summer flowers,

And young sprouts and blue-bells, the first

Signs of life threaded into the azure locks.

They dance and swirl, touching each other’s

Hands, arms, legs.

Separate but never truly

Isolated.

The white one carries them now,

But soon her time will pass

And the others will have their turn

To carry and protect the rest.