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