Life~

When Spring has sprung,

The earth is young,

And life begins anew.

Air fresh and pure;

Delicate and demure,

Flowers graced with dew.

Then Summer moves in,

Earth matures then,

The sky a vibrant blue.

Rich green foliage full,

Playful breezes pull,

Fireworks, fireflies, never few.

But as Autumn arrives,

Earth heaves a sigh,

Looks back at days that flew.

Now wise and knowing,

Chill winds blowing

Colored leaves swept askew.

At last Winter takes hold,

Earth's bones grow old,

To fall asleep- she wants to.

She grows gray and cold,

Tucked neath a blanket of snow,

This day would come, she knew.

And so, as a child grows,

Matures, learns, and knows,

So the Earth does, too.

In an endless circle of 

Life, death, and love,

She warns us our days are few.

© Hannah Scarlett 2012

The Apple~

Her life begins as a bud in the Spring,

A tiny, pink, and delicate thing.

Shyly and slowly, she starts to open,

Just one more promise nature has hope in.

The sun shines down upon her face,

Warming her petals with a golden embrace.

The bud lifts free the rest of her cover,

And becomes a bloom, vibrant with color.

She has many companions,

Pink and white and lovely,

Together they wave in the breeze as champions,

Gracing the bough of their mother tree.

And indeed, champions they be,

They have a miraculous destiny:

To blossom and grow and become

The next generation of the apple kingdom.

Their flowers fade and wilt away,

What's left is a small green thing.

No longer do they smell so sweet,

But this is only the beginning...

Throughout the Summer days,

They grow and start to change.

The previous little bud follows her sisters' ways,

And what happens in quite strange:

Her dark green flesh

 Turns pink as the leaves start to fall,

First begins to pale then brighten,

Then swells and darkens, the last stage of all.

Now she is a dark, red apple,

Perfect in every way.

She is round and rosy and sweet,

And then one day...

She says farewell to her sisters,

Then lets go of her stem.

Through the crisp, Autumn air she falls,

Sadly, yet determinedly, she leaves them.

Landing upon soft, rich soil,

She lies content, awaiting her fate.

Over the days, her time draws near,

And she rejoices at the end of her wait.

For a hand reaches down

And takes her inside,

She knows she's been found,

And great is her pride.

Because now she has finished her duty

To feed those who harvest.

Now this red, blushing beauty

May come to a rest.

As she is washed and cut,

And Laid in the dough of a pie,

She is glad to have fulfilled and acknowledged

Her purpose and calling from On High.

© Hannah Scarlett 2011