The Seasons
sound their silent bells
before time
Cold rain
washing the dry
dust, off the reluctant trees
Wet dogs and dripping
cats huddle like
shipwrecked survivors
under lonely park benches
The sulking sun
suddenly steps out
to create
god’s seventh hope
—–
Fresh snow
falling in wintry waves
covering everything
with a pregnant hush
Hollow footsteps
melting into strange shapes
reminding me of my thoughts
on a cold Sunday morning
Closed sounds, grey feelings
Winter rising
——
Brilliant sunshine
seeping through my cold skin
like my lover’s smile
A rush of warmth
as my bones bask
in the golden glow
of life awakening