The summers are hot and the winters are cold,
But during the interim seasons
I’ll brave the morning air on my porch,
To see if a gentle breeze calls for a jacket.
Mind you, spring breezes and autumn winds,
Are of no comparison,
Except that they signify the changing seasons,
Nothing more. A reminiscence upon these,
Fills my soul with emotions
From the seasons of my life, long since past.
The spring breeze…
How it brings warmth into the timber,
Patiently waiting behind my house,
Waking the vines in my vineyard.
Life finds pleasant surroundings again,
Where swift updrafts carry frisbees and footballs
Into the mouths of dogs or the arms of children,
Respectively.
This invisible current, ever so slightly
Shifts your hair out of place,
Just so I can fix it and be repaid,
With your never ending Love.
The autumn wind….
Chilling the air, telling the world,
Go to sleep, as it creeps. Lulling trees and vines
Into a gentle winter respite.
Death clings to the life summer has brought,
And the wind gently caresses tufts of fur
On deceased beasts and overpriced coats.
Seemingly out of respect,
This brisk zephyr, in a beautiful fashion,
Makes the flowers on my family’s graves dance,
As if my reverence overwhelms their spirits
And their souls flit in the wind.
I think I’ll bring my jacket today,
Just to be safe.
