Learning the Seasons

In the spring of life

Silky white thread formed a nest, a helmet

Around young and tender thoughts

And fears

Spring spilled into summer,

Bringing golden yellows

A close-cropped field of wheat

Turning, magically, into corkscrew pasta

Light danced off of blond hues

Highlighting strands where it pleased.

Summer’s heat wore on,

Forging bronze and clay in its fire

I savored every drop of rain in the summer

And rarely considered the consequences

Of a tilting axis, and bodies in motion.

Without warning, it gave way

And now I find myself in Autumn

Where, true to herself,

All my colors are put on display.

Auburn and ginger have emerged

Mixing with peach and strawberry.

Silver, while present,

Hides like needles in haystacks

Surely winter has not yet arrived.

But then, who can be sure?

I have been bold through the seasons.

Not always in word, or deed,

But more often in quiet and color.

One family has remained constant

— the blues.

Whether hollow and piecing

Or soft and welcoming.

Alone, they invite you

to see me, to see you