seasons in technicolor

winter

a crystal forest

of sleeping trees

creaking

instruments of the wind

the sun's kiss

brings icicles

in the early morn

while

we sleep

with the earth

and

dream

turning to each other

for warmth

as the snow comes

and lady wind sings

her somber melody

we are prepared

hot chocolate

wine

a freezer full of harvest

we dance

by the firelight

hold each other tight

through the deep

frozen nights

there are some

who will say winter

is about death and hibernation

i say it is for love

for the nights are long

are they not?

cold wood floors

shock our bare feet

as we run

for the promised warmth

of our bed

wrapped up safe

in a feather comforter

flannel sheets

the heat of your skin

like a magnet

hold me close

never let go

i can hear the gales blow

feel the blanket of snow

cover our home

natures silensor

but i am safe

in your arms

stolen moments

while the world hibernates

we love

tender

fierce

heat our home

with love alone

a winter filled

with

la petit mort

rising to the heavens

while the world sleeps

hibernates

waits

spring

sun

water

my fingers deep in the fragrant earth

the sweat of

hard work

the seeds of natures currency

life grows

spring flows

quickly through time

a raging river

summer

fireflies

the sweet smell of fresh cut grass

unforgettable primal scent of tomatoes

eating cherry tomatoes warmed by the sun

until the juice runs down my shirt

heat so heavy with humidity it feels like a blanket

beach days

riding the waves

sand between my toes

sunburn

cool breeze laced with salt

hot dogs

fireworks

barefoot days

watch for bees

summer burns hot and fast

with the knowledge that it will not last

weed the garden

day after day

hard work

will always pay

the gods bring

thunder storms

to wash away the sweat

clean and ready

for bed

autumn

the hard work of harvest

complete

we dance

eat

add that layer of fat for warmth

and a little something extra

to hold on to

at night

drink

be merry

have fun

campfires

crisp air kissing my cheeks

the taste of an apple

explodes on my tongue

leaves falling

wind blowing

plants dying

bursts of air from my lungs

floating in the breeze

on a cold morning

letting the chickens out

to pick the garden clean

happy little raptors unaware

winter comes

time to sleep

dream

love

for winter is cold and long

*Authors note: Vivaldi is my absolute favorite composer, hands down. I found a soul deep love for the violin when I read "A Girl of the Limberlost" as a tween. Some dusty, old forgotten book I unearthed at my Grandmother's house on a lazy summer day. While I can write stories in the traditional form (I promise), I'm going through a poetry phase and classical music always brings forth memories in flashes for me. Some good, some bad but always in vivid color and scent. This is what I wrote with the music cranked up and my mind open. Thank you for the challenge, I've never put into words the visions his art brings forth.