In honor of this May, which is dragging its feet into summertime, when temperatures dip into the 50s, and we are all just READY for June.
SEASONS
Oh the wily wintertime with its cold and narrow scope
the gnarly fingered grasp, the scritchy scratch of layered winter wear
the steam of soups and coffees, the fireplace, and tartaned woollen throws
knotted muscles, humming against the chilly insinuating air, until
thawing, melting, it trips and traps into
the robust rise of spring
car windows open everywhere, and whitened hands and elbows cocked and sunning
trees pinked and popped.
reluctantly we ride to work in offices
and fight over who makes the leisurely measured seventy degree walk to the mailbox
for about two months, until
the sticky swollen summer months descend
envelop us in heavy swaths of heat-soaked sopping air
and sunlight stabs and rends our eyes and skin
and trees droop, cars sizzle, and noses pink in seconds of noontime exposure
breathing becomes labored and we all go to the movies, and long for
the golden cheeked arrival of the rosy autumnal days
when t-shirts need a supplement at dusk
and we unpack our sweaters, and feel newly dressed
camping, and the Blue Ridge Parkway, and wrapping up at night
and a taste of Christmas on the wind
with a treasure before our eyes at every turn
and the death of the old year a steady beating heart measured in our every breath