A gambling man

Enter now the panic ponder!
These trees of green, orange or no leaves at all,
are like me; undecided.
Am I Summer? Autumn? Winter?
Cos I’m far from being spring,
with birds of a feather at it like rabbits,
whereas I’ve no beak or bunny to speak of.
But my money’s on Epiphany,
my three-legged pony at 52-1.
Slim chance!
Which is, ironically,
3-1.
Likewise, I’ll fly out of the trap,
grabbing my opportunity by the reigns,
or the mane…
or tail…
only then to be drawn through the rocky streets of education;
the forgotten purpose.