The Vicissitude of Seasons

Spring

You came yelling into my room with a news that I’d been waiting for the longest time.

Over the entire spring break I kept counting days, until you finally said,

They’re flowering! Wake up! You’ve been asleep for an entire day, don’t you want to see them?

For eighteen years, I’ve not jerked as much while waking up;

Come!

And then you grabbed my hand as if I were a kid and there it was,

Our place, our backyard.

It took us two years to plant all the saplings, and here they were,

Flowering gracefully.

A strange sense of wholeness surrounded the both of us, and we sat there sipping chamomile tea,

Starting into the infinite boulevard of dreams.

The Vicissitude of Seasons

Fall

An infinite collection of maple leaves led me on.

Remember how we switched places on the swing every afternoon until we ran out of breath?

I wish I could take a gasp.

And when you made me honey cinnamon rolls,

I wish I could take a mouthful at once.

The time you told me of your love for Fall, leaves, gold and honey,

I wish I could find you in them.

And when I mentioned that I never quite thought of autumn being so full of gratitude,

I wish you’d taught me the difference in the way you observed things and I just looked.

And I just looked.

The Vicissitude of Seasons

Winter

You set in like the tiny creature under my bed, comforting however.

Moments when the snow touched my nose and the ice embraced my two left feet,

I felt liberated.

Moments when I curled up close to the fireplace with your hand in mine,

I felt liberated.

Moments when the mirror was overcasted with vapour and dew ran down my back,

I felt liberated.

Moments when nothing but running for a mile would warm our bodies,

I felt liberated.

Moments when you’d snuggle under my sweater with the idea of keeping warm.

I felt liberated.

Splendidly everything found its way back to keeping warm.

Until the night you crept out of my window to find Fall.

I felt liberated.

I felt liberated.

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