I saw it peek through the crusty earth;
I caught a glimpse glistening on a rock;
And the breezy freshness, Ahh! But, I fear
since it’s April First, ’twas just a tease.
I closed my eyes
to summon summer back,
when the sun warmed my bare skin
and the landscape lushed green,
But I shuddered as the
warmth of the crackling fireplace,
encircled my chilled body,
bringing loving memories of
family, hot cocoa in hand,
laughing as we looked out at
the lopsided snowman we
made only a few moments ago.
I take a deep breath in,
absorbing today’s wintry scene
of contrasted white snow and
the ever darkening sky,
knowing I don’t want to miss
living in the present moment,
where the cold reflects warmth
and time to slow down and enjoy it.
I bare sandals as I step out,
half expecting the lawn to respond
like it did yesterday, when
the sun encouraged its green
tendrils to grow plush and wiggly,
tickling my fleshy exposed toes.
But time can change quickly,
and my exposed toes scrunch under,
seeking shelter from winter’s chill
and the inevitable crunch of grass as it
splays frozen and flat beneath the sandal.
Together, we bear the weight of the season.
Night’s darkening depths of cold
suspend iced stalactites like roof fringe,
vertical beds of melting snow
awaiting tomorrow’s frosty thaw
when the crystalized tapers will drip to life
under the glowing spotlight of sun,
dancing as they reach the ground,
pooling together for midday fun.
I savored the colorful fallen leaves
and the deep, woodsy scent
of maple and oak as I tried to
shape their formation.
The harder I struggled against the winds,
the more the pile seemed to separate,
small clusters encircling my knees,
twirling with excitement as they rose to leave.
And I thought of children, young adults really,
leaving with the anxiousness of Autumn winds.
I know they both will return changed,
some choosing a brief visit,
others remaining among the familiar,
enriching the land and the lives
they touch as they settle in.
With the love of a mother,
I embrace the changes
and look forward to
once again sharing our worlds.
Coat hoods draping their heads,
the sleeves flow loosely behind
while arms swing freely beside
and feet ziggy zag them ahead.
Weaving to find every puddle,
stomping and splashing along;
tongues stuck out for raindrops as
they slosh and splatter toward home.
Sometimes I wish I were still young,
Carefree as children in rain;
Whatever changed my focus
as I grew into older skin?
Is it dictated, written in stone
that work replace childish play?
Or are we merely paying today
for the freedoms of yesterday?
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Last summer, thickly clustered emerald leaves,
deflected the scorching sun from my face, yet
they have thinned until only a few dangle freely
throughout the open weave of twigs and branches,
sparkling like earrings of ruby and gold
as the cooler autumn sun filters through.
Fall’s a Mystery
(Or I’ve Been Watching
Too Much Crime TV)
Blustery winds bring seasonal mysteries, like
why once supple flowers turn crispy and still,
why leaves lose color and fall dead away,
why summer’s loud bugs turn eerily quiet,
and why some people fade when the sun disappears.
If I were a detective, I’d capture the flowers
and confine them indoors for, say, 90 days,
after which, if warm, they’d be returned outdoors.
I’d turn the leaves over to the homicide folks
and hope an autopsy could reveal why
once green and pliant, they’re now crunchy and brown;
I’d send my partner on a seasonal stakeout
along with a sensitized listening device
to determine if crickets have Winter sounds;
And for the people, if they’d consider a change,
I’d see them moved to a sunnier place,
and as their sponsor, of course I’d move, too.
it’s nature’s way,
of helping things
And that is why,
(And I’m sure it’s true)
that women control
the house and skies;
For who else
have you ever known
to rearrange things
that often. I’ll confess,
I’m a woman,
been rearranging rooms
but that shouldn’t
shock you, as my mother,
and hers before her,
this way and ‘tother.
And I’m sure
if they’d had their way,
seasonal changes would be
ten times a year.
Crying clouds crowd the dreary gray skies
of October, releasing rivulets of tears
into already mucky, rain-soaked ground.
Hiding under wide-open umbrellas,
adults quickly stride from cars to buildings,
their briefcases safely tucked under,
protecting themselves and their papers
from the non-ending stream from above.
Donned in raincoat and boots,
backpacks bulging, zippers askew,
children splash from puddle to puddle,
giggling and smilng as they frolic to class,
damp, mud-splattered homework in tow.
As winter’s briskness departs,
I lower the furnace setting, then
Open shuttered windows letting
Bright sunshine warm the rooms;
I set back my winter woolens,
Throw back the heavy covers,
Replace all with lighter fabrics
For spring has finally sprung.