Post
by Doreen Peri » September 4th, 2010, 8:58 pm
In spring,
we sing songs
of new life, watch
wildflowers blossom,
talk of adventurous
journeys, walk paths
hand in hand, a nod
to agree, worshipping
the free gift of energy!
In summer,
we hum tunes on
the porch swing, humidity
weeping from the greenhouse
windows, our brows wet
with sweat. We eat fresh
mangos, watermelon,
grapes, take our time
with each breath.
We go inside, careful
not to let the screen
door slam, sleep semi-naked
on the back porch, savoring
the cool night's breeze.
In autumn, we rake leaves,
meditate how each could have
dropped so quick, individually,
to make such a huge pile, our
cheeks red from a brisk wind.
We reap the harvest we planted
two seasons before, have family
feasts, wondering why seasons
fly by. We watch flocks of geese
soar south, take heed by turning
up our coat collars.
In winter, our hair as white
as the snow outside our window,
our shovel now full, trying to dig
a two-foot deep path to the mailbox,
expecting news from Aunt Deb and
maybe a break in the heating bill.
We sit by the fire, warm our feet,
read poetry by candlelight, seal
doors and windows tight to drafts,
wrap ourselves in thick woolen
blankets, thankful for spring which
we know will come.
Yes, spring, we know will come.
It will come again.
It is the cycles of seasons that fulfill,
it is the change that we are sure will
continue, the only sure thing.
It is what we count on _
the new birth, the sweat, the fallen
tapestry, the wintering, the chill,
and then the repeat, the complete
circle, the cycle again begins.
