Airy wisps of dried grass
drift through the summer sky.
That sky:
a magnificent purple hue,
“purple sky at night,
sailor’s delight.”
I love that saying.
I remember boyhood,
watching the sky go
from dusk ’til dawn.
I’d take note of all the hues.
I’d try to count the millions of stars.
I’d try to be a man on the moon.
That moon-
an imperfect orb of yellow and white
kissed by craters and marred by shadows,
Earth’s little wonder.
I wish I was Neil Armstrong.
Shriveled husks and dying leaves
float through autumn’s air.
That air-
the crisp, frozen breaths of wind.
Blowing through the hills and cliffs
shifting the limbs and branches.
Leaves crunching under foot,
Making that fragile crackling,
followed closely by tiny snaps
and finished with the thud of my sneakers.
All trivial, yet vital sounds.
Those sounds-
the gentle crackle and popping of fires,
wind whistling through the fields.
the tapping of the trees’ branches on my window.
The air and ground both frozen
the icy grasp of winter’s hands
those hands
a terrible force of nature
clawing at the weak
pulling them down
greys and whites combine at all sides
coming together, blurring my vision
the wintry breath comes quick now
chilling all those who dare tread
out of doors under the snowy sun
that sun
an oasis in the bleak sky
beckoning the weariest of travelers
i wish i had waxy wings
to carry me up there
IV.
after the bitter elder of winter passes
the child of Spring brings its precious rains
those rains
sweet to taste
warm to feel
fertile in their aire
after the skies get flooded and stuffed
the great star arrives and dries the ground
and the children of Man find Nature again
dancing in the warmth of the rays
feeling the freedom of the animals
those animals
beasts and treasures to behold
held in your hand, some to fear
Man’s partner’s on Earth
V.
After the Child of Spring
grows and ripens back into Summer,
the woman of Autumn comes to clear
Earth for the spite and embrace of Winter.
Just like Man, our seasons age and mature,
Just like Man, our seasons are fragile infants,
Just like Man, our seasons are embittered forces
Just like Man, our seasons die to give way to the young.