Morning is the springtime of the day,
Awakening, rebirth, renewal.
Warm and fuzzy creatures, out to play,
The scampering of feet diurnal.

Midday can be thought the summertime,
For summoning up the resources.
A time of strength in the warmer clime,
Thus gathering up all our forces.

Gloaming brings us autumn's retraction,
Pulling in all tendrils from chilling.
Protect, retreat, nature's reaction,
In every creature instilling.

Winter, of course, comes with the darkness,
Huddling deep in our safe retreats.
Outside is the gloom and the starkness,
As we sleep til the pattern repeats.

Thus cycles within one another,
In endless arrays, ever-changing,
All prepared by all-knowing Mother,
In seemingly random arranging.