Time to collect sticks and slimy stones from forest stream.
To bandage boo-boos, kiss my childrens’ playtime injuries.
Time to spread knowledge; a patient gardener sowing seeds.
To keep the fingers dancing, a week-long writing jamboree.
To everything, a season emerges for all I want and need.
dVerse Poet’s Pub: Pen a Quadrille (44 lines) to include some form of the word “season.” Join us.