As the bear slowly rouses from slumber
leaving the dark and coolness of the cave,
grumbling and hungry I step out and stretch
for warmth of sunlight, shedding winter scruff.
Yellow warmth swells my dry and empty heart.
Turn of season ripened like red berries
to bursting, filled with sweet juices promise,
greening of trees, honeysuckle breezes.
I will write the lesson of seasons change,
filling my world with blooms of lush language.
Maybe we don’t think of anything as sensuous as this poem as “prickling with sensation,” but that’s what it did for me. Love spring and all the hope/expectation it arouses.
thank you – my moods are so tied to the seasons. Winter is dark and depressing and it seems every year I tire of more quickly. Isolated behind windows to keep the heat in. Locked close to the fire rather than venture out into a hostile world.
Spring is hope and my entire spirit sighs with relief to see it again, to feel rain and warmth, watch flowers begin to bud…anticipation of fragrance.
Summer is youth and water, lazy reading with fan turning, sweaty lawn mowing fresh grass smell and evening fireflies. Peace.
Fall is oddly exuberating considering winter will soon follow. It is forever tied in my memory to the smell of new crayons, stiffness of new school clothes. Maybe because it is my birth month – it feels very alive, as though everything is giving it’s best final performance before the winter curtain falls.