Seasons

 

Born into rain

–translucent skin

and steady eyes clear

(as drops)

crackling

with lightning

–revealing and discovering–

thunderous cries

unleashing. . .

 

Grows into summer

–golden all over

and flush with

the warmth of possibility,

pools of blue

ocean

pierced with

black-and-white surety,

laughter trills

spilling

–lyrical as birdsong. . .

 

Moves into autumn

–mottled

yellows, reds and browns,

fragile and fleeting

and on deck,

drooped with awning

–faded dun–

from years

of sun

–calls falling

into rustling

whisper

of leaves. . .

 

Passes into winter

–white as

bloodless snow–

drapes drawn

on rheumy windows

too frosted

to see,

layering cold

on top of life

–wisdom

unheard

in

final, muted storm.

 

 

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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