Capricious

The days have brought me here again
where winter waits around the bend
And I hear whispers on the wind-
calling out my name...

I bow my weary head and sigh
and mourn for summer days gone by-
Aware that time with always fly
And nothing stays the same...

Oh, but to feel the summer heat
upon my hair and face and feet!
Nothing else feels so complete
as a Sunday in July!

But, yet, how fickle I do turn-
because on summer days, I sometimes yearn
For a winter landscape to return
and to have snowflakes fill the sky!