The seasons here move like life where we have a short but vibrant sping/youth then move into our long period of growth/ green and reproduction – xummer with its heat and flowers and sultry aromas – next it moves int the quick short spurt of fall where the leaves fall and man weeps for he feels his old age approaching and remembering the spring of his youth – then moves on to winter snow death and the truth in that – the life that is steeped beneath the snow cals to the spring of many other lives. They flow consecutively one into another! Not a one out of place. As a sonnet it has a flow all it’s own that is that of the sonnet.
Each line is iambic pentameter and folows the rhyme scheme of the Shakepearean sonnet.
The separation of soul is simply a URBIS problem as that should be a continuation of that line.
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