Summer
The grass is dry and sharp under bare feet,
Not itchy anymore,
Any green irritation long dead,
Burned away by an August sun.
Green trees are delicate now.
Careful- nudge them too violently,
Climb them too fast and you’ll
Upset the illusion of this seasons immortality.
We walk together through warm air,
Letting the sweat lock into our skin:
The feeling of lazy adventures
And lurid laughter.
These are the lemonade days,
When the world burns leisurely,
Leaving yellow accents in its wake
And stealing words before we have the courage to speak them.
Because there will be more time.
The sun slides sluggishly along in the sky.
The days are comfortingly long,
And we have time.
Fall
Back to concrete walls and walkways,
Appointments and schedules to keep to.
It is as much the clacking of fast heels I hear
As the crunching of dead leaves under foot.
Rain beats against the window panes
Of a thousand climbing apartments
But somehow noise seems fainter,
Voices blurred by a decaying world.
You welcome this change
Of fresh voices and murmurs
That this warbling season brings,
Wrapping yourself in companions to ward off the chill.
I wonder if the frost gets to you there,
As it does to me here.
The world begins to crack,
And grows dangerously brittle.
I sit watching the trees,
Counting the leaves that sink to sidewalks and streets,
Ticking down one after the after
In crimson tragedies.
Winter
It is drearily dim.
These days, as feet freeze and skin pales,
Memories are faded like colors until
There are only shades of grey to be found.
Every edge is detailed in black;
The artist’s paint ran away with the sun
And I am left to admire
The clean emptiness of a slumbering canvas.
You must be as cold as I am
In this mute tempest,
Winds and hail and ice
And all we can do is wait.
Tighten your scarf, your coat, your boots.
Preserve whatever warmth is left, please,
And hold on to the recollection
of a warmth that doesn’t come from space heaters.
I think you’ve forgotten
What it felt like to feel young,
As the clouds cradle their aching backs
And empty frozen nothings softly onto our heads.
Spring
It is only a ray at first,
Shinning just happily enough for one chink of green
To spark its way back into existence
Just as luminously as a cat’s eyes in the dark.
The sky has careened suddenly back into bright blue
And buds spattered across branches
Burst into shades of ruddy pink and plum,
Blushing color back into our cheeks.
The stiflingly harsh cityscape softens,
as cold and grey are whisked away on easy breezes.
Birds chorus and trees nestle cheerfully against each other.
Silence has come to an end.
I stretch my arms and legs
Throwing my aching body into the warm yellow.
I wait for you do to the same,
To feel this newfound brightness.
Delicately open your warmth to me,
We remember what sunlight feels like.
Flowers shoot up like waving hands
And green grass itches at the soles of our feet.