I write to say my season is not done yet.
Another two weeks of snow and ice it will be.
Days will be cold; ground will still be frozen.
I am sorry for late word.
This torture to prolong my season,
I want to see my flowers bloom.
I want warm air to blow through
Instead of freezing cold.
Why, must you add two weeks of more winter.
It is this year to add more winter.
It won’t be negative degrees
Like three weeks ago.
I’ll keep it tame; don’t you worry.
Your season will come soon enough.
Thank you for my concern.
This will give me time to prepare.
I will call the clouds and the rains
And whisper to the winds
To start two weeks after this cold.
Spring will come then
With budding daffodils and flowering trees.
Any more changes let me know
For the people are tired of winter now.
Summer winding to a close
Air is cooler
Humidity almost gone
Change of seasons is coming soon
Darkness lingers longer in morning
And comes quicker in evenings
Light begins to fade quicker
Struggles to rise in early morning
Summer has now begun to slumber
As Fall begins to stir awake
Rotating of seasons is now in hand
The blue heron always flies away
in early morning as I leave for work.
Try to be quiet going down stairs, he hears
No, one else is out near my place:
just the lake and other wild animals in nature.
But, why do you come spending only short time at the lake?
Why not stay longer?
I ask, cause I seem to be the only one who rises early
and want to fly to work on time.
Clouds still hung dark.
Gray skies opened to lighter shades
Showing pinks, reds and oranges
As sun set for evening.
I looked at splash of color,
Thinking what has
Been passed down through generation: “Red skies at night, sailors delight; Red skies in morning, sailors take warning.”
A saying I’ve heard so many times.
It always seems to to ring true.
I hope tomorrow skies will be blue.