2 October 2001

Cuddling inside an oversized quilt,
comforting mug of hot chocolate warming one hand,
good book in the other.  Slippers on my feet,
fire crackling in the fireplace,
the pitter of rain against the window, the patter of the
downspout emptying into the ground.
Winter.

A barbeque, its wood and hamburger scent fills the air
with fragrant smoke.  S’mores, beach volleyballs,
scantily-clad half-tanned bodies, century degree mark,
late nights in front of the television with the fan
blowing cooling air into your sweating face,
open windows at the drive-in, midnight sun and no school.
Summer.

A fresh breath of new, unused air teases my nostrils,
cloying smells of wet earth and sweet hyacinths
twine around my head
while it all reminds me of swallows and reborn life,
I’m filled with an antsy feeling of impending freedom.
Spring.

Birthdays, my September birthday, bring on this time, ends
a summer,
brings you/me back to reality and conformity,
brings the wild to heel, broken and wilted and dead like
the wildflower you picked under the sparkling lights
last Fourth of July,
brings sanity to your world, slavery to your free.  World.
Fall.