Seasons
poetry about connections, the universe, sex and this chaotic existence. Put on your seatbelt folks, because things are about to get ANGSTY
"Seasons"
A poem about the transitioning seasons, their cyclical nature, and the feeling of seeing death and rebirth.
@poetrybypheebs
"Seasons"
Seasons
do you ever think about
how as years pass
we see the same trees
change colors
then die
then grow once again?
this winter
i see the seasons change
on my drives over the bridge to work
in the mornings, i look out the same window
at the huge oak tree,
orange leaves diffusing light like stained glass.
or off the balcony overlooking the West Hills
fiery colors soon to be extinguished
by frosty mornings and snow flurries.
the seasons
are the window framed view from my bedroom
choosing wool socks over cotton
the prickles of cold air slipping through the holes in my sweater .
time passes
we change our clocks and our clothes
stripping off layers,
but yet i still
revert back to
the same sweater
i wore last winter.
© 2020 Phoebe Anderson
