January is very strong,
yet even it cannot last long.
The season's weather turns from black,
a white endeavour sees Winter pass.
February, March and April,
come to stay but aren't able.
The season's weather turns from white,
a flash of yellow means Spring has died.
May, June and then July,
determined but must still decline.
The season's weather turns from yellow,
the browns together let Summer go.
August, September and October,
settle in and then they're over.
The season's weather turns from browns,
the blackness severs Autumn's bounds.
The last few sparks fleet with November
and, on the mark, it is December.
Each season born and then departed,
as quickly gone as it was started.
It's all pretend, a thin veneer,
it starts again, another year.
