in autumn, everything darkens,
cuts away from bark and drops
until
in winter, ice
like glass holds back goods
and then
in spring, to step away and
keep us warm by poking green, busy bee,
and then
in summer, touch
and step through glass and action, cut
to warm flowers and holding hands
until
captures the seasons - and makes me think of how to bridge this into a poem about life's seasons...
ReplyDeletehummm