Stuck or strategic retreat or healing or basking and enjoying.

How you see it is how you deal with it.

Even if the wild is mystical, there is a rhythm to agriculture, quite like the seasons and moods.




Seasons

Life, for me

is not only beautiful 

but a renewable source of joy.

 

When exhausted,

i burrow in books

grow roots in people

float like a leaf adrift in air

hibernate in nature.

 

Then the spring comes

tugging on me,

i let the grass be my dance floor

with flowers swinging in air to keep me company.

 

The summer sun rises to balm me

and the rain falls to play over me;

The sky informs me that life is vast

and the cholorophyll hued greens

tell me that it is rich indeed.

 

I have my fill of autumn air 

shedding the old and baring the vital

with the colours giving way to

grey and wintertide white;

Its time to irrigate my mind

and cultivate words.

 





Poetry by Sona The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 35 times
Written on 2022-11-21 at 20:12

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