I find myself
in the same winter grave
year after year.
Lucky for me,
it's not too cold
for me to claw my way
back into the warm arms
of summer.

If today

I never wrote

I would have disappointed

this spring

I can't remember

last year

or even springs before it

I can't remember how many split

seconds surrounded me tenderly

like water

I hide in the house

can't see the crimson of a certain flower

can't hear the sound

of a delicate bud jumping for joy

I can only

hold a cup of aged green tea

fantasy or speculation

glistening verdant details

of all things

when I look back at so many springs

many years later

I remember this

every breath I breathed

I had waited.

autumn leaves
and nothingness
seasonal escapade
ache more for less

hills that whisper
junipers without whim
love without living
wounds without skin

mental imposter
corrupted serenity
flimsy enclosures
where art humanity

mountains that shake
hellebores without bloom
live without loving
oxygen unconsumed.

Whether you are under your blankets
Or in the arms of another.

I hope you are warm wherever you are.

I have long
forgotten the warmth
of the summer days-
inside my heart,
there is an
endless
winter.

she is
the chill swept over
frail skin—

held dear to the summer,

the thrashing
of warm raindrops
and sand

known only to the bare—

warm throughout,
but the chill still
tickles her skin

while her blood simmers.

Welcome to spring!
Season of love and liveliness
Occasion of novel beginnings
And opportunities

In this realm of joy
Trees charmingly give birth
To new baby leaves
Flowers blossom
Spreading their sweet aroma
In the air
Rainbow shows up with a smile
Romanticizing the earth

Butterflies exquisitely
Waver everywhere
Birds sing along
Building their nest
Fireflies appear
As Tinker Bells
Rabbits run around
With jubilation
Chipmunks dance
With gratification

This is the time
When nature writes
Its own poetry
In a beautiful form