changingseasons
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Where the deity is seated upon contemplation
In search of solitude where thoughts is the only companion
What am I longing for?
Suddenly the surroundings is filled with obscurity
In this frigid winter I write
To you who reminds me of this unwelcome chill,
That comes not at my request but at the hand of nature
Like the wind, you envelop me in an unwanted embrace,
Summer comes as sweet as the strawberries in the front yard do,
In the full swing of June swelling with intangible flavor.
The plant starts bitter in late April when it is tucked into the soft earth.
