The Fifth Season

You asked for summer –

And it’s at your threshold,

In robes of burning leaves

Of dry, exhausted soil

/

Afraid of heat and draught,

You begged for autumn

And, crying rains, it came

To wail outside your door

/

Scared of its open wounds,

You called for winter

Who, like a blizzard, swift

All ice, distress and cold,

/

Appeared, but it was spring

You thought you wanted:

Capricious, lukewarm, shy

It came, but you recoiled

/

You locked your home,

Inventing a fifth season,

Which looked like summer,

Smelled like autumn herbs,

/

Which had the grace

And fierceness of a winter

And laughed, like spring,

At your uncanny jokes

Early Spring by the Sea

Still blue with cold you are
As winter lingers
Upon your shores and
Upon my shoulders

/

Roofs glow gray in the rain
And empty buildings
Await their dwellers,
Warm like the summer

/

Plain faces, pale as spring
Seem starved for feelings
To help them blossom
To give new meanings

/

To the most ancient rhythm
Of changing cycles,
And closing circles
Of dreams and failures