Seasons of My Time

Carolyne Swayze
Carolyne Swayze, Composer


This last birthday, September 24th, caused a time for reflection. Just enough time, it appears, to write a song. I am very proud of this one. I think the song speaks, speaking being the optimum word, for itself.


Seasons of My Time

I know much, although I cannot speak, and therefore, give the appearance of knowing little.  Each day is a little longer than the one before, and I am filled with the wonder of exploration. My mind races to follow new things as I share rebirth and regrowth with the universe. There is much commotion regarding my material comforts , which in reality are actually few.  My eyes are introduced to new things and soon welcome familiar sights, like, my mother's face, as my ears hearing new sounds, welcome the intimacy of her voice. My mind is at peace, and as I draw nourishment from her breasts, I am comforted.  I sleep with no assurances, and yet somehow confident that I shall awake, protected by loving arms.  My name is Spring.

I know much, and although I speak, my words are sophomoric, and I am thought to know little.  I am innocent; held harmless from the consequences of my pomposity, and allowed, even encouraged, to reach for stars, even though the tree tops are  far beyond my grasps. It is they, the stars and the treetops that are at fault for being too distant.  There is no time to endure such human inadequacies for although my days are long, there is precious little time to let me change all things as required by the arrogance of my youth.  I sleep, unaware that my pride serves as a shield of armor from which I will draw protection from the misfortunes of living. My name is Summer.

I know much, and yet I speak little. My days are now short and I long for those things for which I took for granted.  I must now hasten to store the recesses of my mind with things of importance. My mother's voice is now nothing more than a fading memory along with other beautiful melodies. Today, my walk is not as spright, and my dance is not nearly as bold; compassion and empathy have trumped impatience and intolerance. A posture once soaring is now rather stooped, not as much as an inability to stand tall, as to show humility. While some of my reflexes seem dulled and diminished by time, my sense of humor is able to laugh. I now climb the mountains, wasting no energy on molehills. My name is Fall.

I know much, although I cannot speak, and therefore, give the appearance of knowing little. Each day is a little shorter than the one before, and I sit and ponder all things vast and beautiful. I see every raindrop, as merely nourishment for the earth, and every storm as a means to remove obstacles from my path. I am overcome with emotion by the laughter of children at play, a puppy chasing a ball, the remembrance of a friend's embrace, and a lover's kiss.  I sleep with blessed assurance that I shall awake, protected by loving arms throughout eternity.  My name is Winter.

And these have been the seasons of my time.

- carolyne swayze

Copyright © 2013 Carolyne Swayze

Duchess Publishing, Sacramento California