Seasons

Spring hits like a fever rolling by on a breeze fresh from snow, its chill evaporates playing tag with the sun. Floral fragrance tickles noses with a simple sneeze, accruing tissues, red noses and too much achooing. Sunsets expand layered in soft light, painting promise in clouds written across the sky like a banner proclaiming daylight will reign longer than the night. The birth of a season so fresh and so new, filled to the brim with expectation and desire, what is this presence, what is its name? The fever hits hard with its bustling contagion, gaining ground touching others pulling fast with momentum now called Summer.

The world is on fire, heating up and on the move. Plans and vacations, family, time to be with friends. Thunder and lightning battle all afternoon, while fireworks rain from the sky the whole month of July. Chase the cool submerged in water, float or boat, beg a friend to use the pool. The days are longer and hotter on paper, with so much to fit in, one blink goes unnoticed until, wait…school starts again. Is it over so soon? How can this be? Summer, like youth, felt so immortal, but now following spring the fever does out.

The leaves struck with realization they are not evergreen are blinded by shock that their season is over. Changing costumes of color to crispy red, poppy yellow and burning orange, they light up the forest in one final performance. Viewers stand in line hopeful to catch such a higly reviewed show captureing its essence so perfectly on camera. Showered in applause, the show goes on until the wind pulls the curtain in a final bow. With nothing left to see the light, like the leaves bows out to the night. The moon wears his crown as time settles down, chilling the air warrants a change in attire. Boots, beanies, socks, pants and hoodies bundle up under blankets, cocooned next to fires. Bears give in leaving the forest to hibernate while nearby snow flurries accumulate. Life slows down, plans form after dark, where did the day go, it feels to late to go out.

Winter is here, fingers are numb it’s quiet out. Not a sound to be heard from the flakes falling from the sky. The streets are colored the same as the ground, a blanket of white sandy pebbles bundles the world. The sky sets pink as stars peek out between low clouds shaded with grey. Cold sings its song with breaths like steam pouring out of a factory both day and night. The Holidays are over another year has gone. Winter sets in always feeling too long.

Where does time go running off so fast. Spring tasted so new, so fresh and young. Caught up in all its joy like riding a bike, I’m sure I’m still seven, how did it vanish? Summer was here, I remember it’s freedom. It tasted like 16 and a first time drivers driver’s license, with wind in my hair and sun on my skin, driving with windows down no thought as to where, only to leave, to feel free just to go…anywhere.

An unexpected change in the weather, I’m unprepared in my desperate need for a sweater. Shouldn’t I know this by now, every season comes the same, I definitely remember this one. Be prepared for a blizzard, but don’t sweat from the heater, wear layers of outfits and think it all through. So much planning and effort, adulting feels harder making me long for the summer while the snow keeps on falling. The winter chill can be boring as I reflect back on the year.

No matter the number I find it’s the same, where is time going? Three months of equal sharing and yet I hear them yell, seasons rebelling against the clock reminding me to stop and think…a year moves to fast without any ink. An ink blot to mark a moment – otherwise lost to time – pinning it to memory by pen or with photography.

Memories so precious defy season and time, marked upon their page rendered in endurance long enough to last a single lifetime.