They're here Mystical, whispers of All Souls and All Saints Mischievous winds banging on deck doors, grabbing my hat away, juggling golden leaves with invisible hands Baking days, mahmoul and baklava Scent of rosemary and roasted lamb Bed linens, cold Circulating memories Early sunsets, hot chocolate nights Gone the heat, the languid summer To each season its reason and joy © 2017, Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day, The BeZine, and Coffee, Tea and Poetry)
No illusions, no illusions, no lies, no softened truths, no tears, no bargains, though sun shines and birds sing, Winter is here, I know. Once Spring danced like wild flowers in the wind, held dew and promise and wore the colors of her heart like jewels She hadn't heard the word defeat and didn't feel hate or anger. Spring liked to play and romp and sing and hung her question on a tree to ripen - Why? Summer took herself seriously, was wide-eyed with longing, sizzling in the sun. She wore a red dress and the champagne happiness of a husband and baby She had reckless courage because Summer is young and youth is bold, a silver bell that rings and rings and never stops. Too much is not enough and still that tremulous - Why? Autumn gently smiled, like Da Vinci's lady
Spring comes with its flowers, autumn with the moon, summer with breezes, winter with snow; when useless things don't stick in the mind, that is your best season. --Wumen Huikai Is this your best season?... for Mindful Monday © April 6, 2015, post: Donna Pierce Photo Credit: "A pond for all seasons," Keith Hall, 2006.