A Chance of Seasons
Virgin flowers –
first taste of new life.
Stargazer lilies scent
Rolling waves of green grass,
pollen platoons invade air –
poetry reads well under a tree.
Sun made tea
sits on the ledge of the balcony
as the city wakes below.
Lying on a towel above burnt cement,
dead air-conditioner –
sound track of katydids.
Summer’s heat; soft pavement –
clouds drift through streets.
Scarlet leaves smear
the highway borders
through perspiring eyes.
Harvest Moon – red,
streaked with black clouds –
light from moon –
frost by morning.
Burning wind of frost,
guidance of lunar reflective glow;
shovel warms from earned friction.
An autumn chill,
a graveyard’s swaying trees –
sunlight bathes the hearse.
cemented sky –
dry leaves crowd my shoes.
The face smiles its lunar grin,
making a path along the water;
the cold tide goes to sleep.
Snow covers the graveyard –
forgotten names are blanketed,
put to rest by mother nature.
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