Reaping of Contentment

The passing of the seasons,
The tides in their rhythm,
Those the sun obey,
These with the moon sway.

The dandelion blooms,
Never a moment too soon.
Finds its way when is time,
As the rosemary and thyme.

When the season is right,
And was overcome the plight,
The heart will also bloom,
When is time and is season.

Then sun and moon will agree,
When is time for love to be.
There will be no impediment,
For the reaping of contentment.