
In springtime our thoughts
turn toward Pesach and Easter,
toward matzo and eggs
and a cotton-tailed keister.
In summer we think about
visiting beaches
to bask in the sunshine
while eating ripe peaches.
In autumn, leaves wither, and—
if you’re a duck—
you wing your way southward
with anatine pluck.
In winter, when holidays
oft’ involve candles,
’tis maybe the season
to stop wearing sandals.
Then springtime again—
the years scamper on
like that cotton-tailed bunny,
here and then gone.