Mixed Seasons

Mixed seasons,

weather systems,

such are the changes

and phases of living.


Thank goodness.


A cloudless sky,

no raindrops released,


no anticipation of bloom

would leave me dry,

parched for a breeze,

to carry my wishie seeds;


a need for a storm

would swell up from within

to shake awake my soul

with thunderous rumblings,


surging me with feelings of invincibility


and simultaneous reminders of humility

that somehow create an electric potion

that I drink in, with silent mouth open,


and the birdsong and blooms rise to greet me,


all of us survivors in each new season,

refreshed witnesses reborn and reconvening

after needed periods of hibernation and migration.


I rub the colored florals between my fingers


like paint I add to the rain reservoir within me,

and as the sun returns just as expected,

I feel my part in this divine masterpiece.


Words and images ©LauraDenise


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