She was spring
when bronzing heat
In mid-summer haze
fruits dangled ripening from tangled vines
evincing feminine stealth
of changing seasons.
Cynics call transformation fairy tale.
Frogs don’t become princes.
But lives of labor turned into
love into loss into light
ain’t a lie.
Neither is the crimsoning of autumnal leaves.
Do you look forward to the changing of the seasons?
It’s almost fall which means I get to see more of the SF sun real soon. Yay!
As for transformation, the seasons are an indication that it’s not only possible but inevitable. I find this comforting during this time of deepening crises, protracted results and wavering leadership. Do you as well?
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