I won't envy the heat this August.
The fall (English say autumn)
burrowing like urinating dogs
thru trees,
carrying winter woolies
with sniff of air
crisscrossing the lion's tamer's
path I must trod
when snow hits.
2
No, I won't envy searing blasts
be they inclement
weather or lost souls
bargaining with rain.
Acceptance . . . they say
is the key
and the word clangs like chimes
into my biology, a grandfather clock
to my own chamber music, a
little something to cheer and
serenade the buffeted spirit.
3
Think still thoughts in gloomy houses
when petals cry burst in springtime.
This is done in preparation
for brighter moments
ecstatically greeting
November chill,
devouring the last chestnut,
cursing wheat-cakes over
winter's fire.
4
A pleasant page
crammed in the tumbler briefcase
carrying my life's thimble,
rocketing toward
a brilliant destiny
all 4 seasonal planets
orchestrating mood;
the patch quilt procupine
quill emotion tapestry
working overtime like
a fish hook thru
brain's inner eye, ocular
hair shirt pulled on
at warning's glance
to trigger the way I boil eggs;
devour slivers of wood
on learning another day
kicks ass from
the horizontal pillow.