Water runs in the spring with the snow melt from winter and our Rooster drinks deeply (travel and circuses flourish). Summer is parched, hard boiled, pope’s nose and something to brood over (petrol stations and bars run dry). Come the cold, and the water rises to its natural place, winter rain and you’re as cocksure as you can be (hydro runs hot, as does sea trade).
The spring Chicken is true to its name - perched on the highest roost (anything bamboo, tea or herbal is good), so quit squawking and get flying. Come autumn, you’ll be cooped up with egg on your face (a late run from schools and educational material may fluff some winter feathers).
Our fire bird rises from the ashes late in spring (authors and cosmetics take a while to warm up), and burns bright, as the blazing phoenix through the summer (surely nothing is hotter than a honeymoon hotel). The second half of the year sees you scratching around, pecking at the wire, living off chicken feed and trying to get those optics firms into focus.
Earth feathers the nest slowly (the vegetable market and HR departments share more than you think), but soon starts breaking eggs for the summer omelette to end all omelettes (concrete, construction, real estate, and don’t say a thing about tofu construction), certainly something to crow about. Late in the year your eggs get all scrambled (which means court case - so call the lawyers).
Early on, fire in the 2017 coop keeps the metal in the Rooster down low walking on eggshells, or it’ll be roasted (you don’t want uranium going off so early in the year, and tungsten is a dish best served warm). But over summer the pecking order gets sorted and later in the year it’ll be time to pick up that nest egg and fly the coop.