What’s the call of the seasons?

Spontaneous 90 degree weather signals

Summertime is in full-force

Winds of change command attention

When’s the next spring?

When’s the next autumn?

Warmth warms and cool air cools

But the weather improves not

Summer is summer

And summer never changes.


Blue sky


I love the blue skies.

I lay down on the grass and enjoy the scene I’m seeing. It’s one of the first spring days to feel like a real spring day. Not often is the wind blowing at such a dead calm that it’s not a nuisance but is noticeable all the same. By all counts I imagine the speechless masses emitting sounds and shrieks of anticipation toward the summer, but what of spring? There’s rain, allergies, and sickness, but also a subtle natural brilliance that puts even the most anxious and irritated of people to rest. The leaves of trees grow once more after a long season of ineffable dread. The colors radiate like the birds soaring northward, back home. I love the blue skies because they remind me of spring.

Down the River


In the heat of the evening breeze, I see

A flower soar right in front of me.

I saw it dance and saw it fly,

But then I saw that lonely flower die.

The nature is rushing down the river.

The freezing water makes them shiver.

The cold is long in the summer’s embrace

And the flower’s death brought tears to my face.

With heat comes cold, and seasons too

For when they change, the world turns blue.

I see it when I walk for long,

As nature sings it melancholic song,

The death of a flower, oh so small,

I wonder if it happened to them all?

Would we notice and would we care?

This world I see, for all to share.

I worry and I preach: “beware!”

For those flowers dancing eternally in the air,

For all we know will soon despair;

The future I see is all too near.

One by one they’ll drop from the sky.

And I can only ask why.