All Seasons
The nuptials spoken in frigid cold full of CO2 appear as little puffs breathing life into the new marriage. A wind so cold it freezes oreos and whipped cream to the newlyweds little hatchback, a sealing of sugar to metal and glass that would last through the winter. The cold would not keep two hearts from melting into one-another. The bitter, unlighted months often bring fear and uncertainty. In the darkness a gift is offered. Rest and metamorphosis, perhaps. Reflection can be put on as protection from the cold. Step into the darkness for there is light to be sought and gathered.
The earth continues spinning with a slow tilt of its upper hemisphere back towards the warmth of its star. Icicles drip drop from their sharpened tips. Ridged dirt begins to melt into mud offering room for life to germinate. Mother Nature’s moist soil, an offering of nutrients to the god of life, renewal. Little muddy foot prints are found, like clues in some cosmic crime scene. One pair, then two. Spin through a few more springs and more pairs of muddy prints appear. Three pair and then four. A fifth pair of tracks completes the wild clan, a wild garden blooming outward. Exasperation and exhaustion, like spring rain, echoes what will become sad wishes for muddy prints in empty and quiet hallways.
Air particles start to sizzle and wave as the giant magnifying glass in the sky focuses the sun’s rays. Heat bakes out truth like a body releases sweat to cool. Sand is found in places sand doesn’t belong causing discomfort on a skin level. The ocean demands to be heard through its endless rhythm. Home runs fly into spiked balls while 3rd outs run into match points. Spectators smile watermelons grins as children everywhere kick cans into the shadows of the night. High highs of winning are held heavenward with tight fists and shouts of elation burst into the sky like fireworks on a July evening. Low lows sink deep into heavy hearts as losers face the harsh reality; effort alone isn’t enough to guarantee fate. Tears, cleansing and bitter, roll and roar like a summer thunderstorm. Parting clouds allow a sun to burn truth into retinas as long as eyes remain wide.
Stillness and curiosity catch notes of death whispered on chilled winds. The first off colored leaf can no longer hold to the tree it fed sun beams all these months. With a snap gravity wins and pulls the dead leaf down to its final resting place. Red, maybe brown or orange or yellow, colorful death reminding all of the destination that cannot be altered. Little feet grow to peer size, large enough to pave their own game trails through the unknown, unidirectional forest. A tree can’t hold its leaves forever.
Seasons change like green leaves find fall colors making room for new buds. An endless circle. Rhythm, like the music of the ocean or piles of frozen H2O gathered in the mountain tops, and urged by the sun, make its way down through the rocks to the music below. How many years spent wishing for different seasons?
“The future needs to arrive faster, like an avalanche to bury the pain and shame of the past.”
How many hours of spent powers trying to prevent a leaf from losing its splendid viridescent color. Hands raised with promised power to retain each unique snowflake in the dark clouds. So many lost moments to eyes clamped shut from fear and forced fantasy.
Belief once held so tight fingers became bloodless.
“I can pray time away and brains never change!”
Learning to hold belief lightly like a wise, old tree releasing a red leaf back to mother earth. A brain moving towards acceptance and awareness of a wrapped present offered by father time. Eyes filling with desire to witness every gift wrapped and unwrapped, even if it means December 26th draws nearer. The snow flake and the sunset; the pains and the sorrows. Open my eyes to them all. Every grey hair. Every crow marked eye. Every tear streaked cheek.
Humbly bow the head in awe at the opportunity to experience every Season.