Open your eyes

[sun_sparks]

-- Newest Revision --

A verdant terrain.
Nature’s gift, a fertile ground.
Drenched in April's rain. This stanza is very rooted in location. I do feel that verdant is slightly later in the year than April though, and perhaps less water logged than drenched soil. From my Irish eyes, this last line is perfect. I love the word "drenched" - cliche though it may be. The idea of land lying fertile awaiting growth is interesting. Perhaps earlier in the year?

Yet burning waves bound. I was confused by this - what are the burning waves? It seems violent. The full stop/period also threw me here.
Over land, and sunlight spreads.
Under mid-life’s crown. I felt that sunlight would come from above a crown, not under it, so this made me hesitate. It's also the first reference to implied humanity, which may need to come earlier?

Crescent yellow threads. I assumed the sun for crescent yellow - perhaps low sun filtering through branches? It's not terribly clear though.
Ancient branches crack and bend. I liked the sharp sound in "crack"
Now weeping soft reds. This stanza is colourful, but perhaps too obviously autumn/fall. It would be nice to play with this.

Sharp freezing winds rend.
Extinguishing warmth within.
Exit Old Year's end. I found the phrase "Old Year" quite forced

Melting snow signals the next cycle's spin. The melting snow image is overused. There might be something else that could be used instead?
Everything will change, but your kith and kin. This last couplet felt quite forced, as if you weren't 100% sure what your message would be. In fact, when we look at the cycle of the seasons, nothing really changes. That's why it's such a popular topic for poetry! The rhyming of "spin" and "kin" also feels as though you were reaching for a rhyme scheme at the expense of the message.

-- Original Post --
A young green terrain,
nature’s gift, a fertile ground.
Dearest Kore’s reign.

Yet burning waves bound
over land, and sunlight spreads.
Under mid-life’s crown.

Cascading swept reds,
a gale howls through, branches crack.
Naked spindly shreds.

Sharp cold winds attack,
extinguishing fire within.
Exit the last act.

Make ready for the festivities to begin.
Enjoy a final end, and celebrate with kin.

Despite my lack of positive comments above, I enjoyed the concept of this poem, and it was helpful to see its evolution from your first version. However, I found the flow a little confusing, much as Mostly Holy wrote above. It jumps a little from one season to the next. I wonder whether you could nail the last couplet first - what are you trying to say? From there, perhaps, you can tease the seasonal journey a little more. I personally love to see writing that explores colour - your autumn stanza attempts this.