Slushy, dirty, filthy.
Green, too bright;
the landscape skinned naked,
out from the enveloping comfort of winter cover.
Too much light.

Hot white  light;
I disappear into dust.
Constant pressing heat; lethargy, laziness;
heavy-lidded eyes half closed
in buzzing semi-consciousness.
Wispy clouds, wind,
gold, red, brown, bronze, copper leaves.
Cool air, golden sun;
a lift of the spirit.
Darkness comes earlier;
orange and black; pumpkins; Halloween.
Cold, tranquil, quiet, beautiful;
blue, purple, black, white.
The diamond hardness of stars;
cold silver light, blinding white snow.
The Aurora Borealis,
changing colors and shapes of the Northern Lights.
A magic season!
My favorite season is fall, followed closely by winter. I wish I could stand the cold, I would move to one of the Nordic countries.


2 thoughts on “Seasons

  1. I agree with Tom. Your poetry is evocative of memories about all seasons. Still, let me throw in my simple rhymes inspired by your depth and emotion.

    Spring has sprung,
    The warmth has come
    And we know where that can lead.
    To a Summer blazing
    So, it’s not amazing
    That Snowbirds don’t stay for the heat.
    But Fall is next
    With its colors betwixt
    Those continued days still way too hot.
    We end with Winter.
    Many an elderly visitor
    Returns when we cool down to just hot.

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