Winter lies in the empty forests
In the smell of burning wood
Gray smoke that curls like fingers towards the
Already opaque steel sky
The world hardens
As the ground hardens
With the frost blown from the lips
Of once departing night.
Spring lies in the dandelion flowers
In the yellow pollen brushed on bee wings
In the medicine aisle of a discount store
It is warm and bland
The servant boy
For dear Lord Summer.
Summer lies in the sweat of one’s forehead
In the nights spent with open windows
Slick sheen of the black tops and sidewalks
Reflecting the scowling sky.
The puddles form
The mosquitoes sing
The red heart
Of a watermelon lies splayed
Under the burning constellations.
Autumn lies in the dry smell of parchment leaves
Odorous smell of cooking gingko berries
Red like blood
Red like pain
Oh what loss
The world is on fire.
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