SeasonalShifts~

Autumn pushes me into dormancy

dry edges in burnt orange

pressed between silent pages

Winter locks me in an icicle shell

rime breath in interlocking snowflakes

decorate the panes of glass I build around my soul

Spring coaxes the seedlings on my windowsill

buds reaching through the hard casing

of ruptured ice which has become my skin

Summer bleeds the chill from my bones

sunshine bask on a mesa

my season is the color of red clay

 

Author's Note

~a simple little poem dressed up around the autoimmune disease of rheumatoid arthritis~weather/barometer/humidity severely affect inflammation~dry summers are the kindest on the joints~ =)~ I higlighted red clay in color font to bring home deeper the relevance of the season gentlest on the body~

Reviews

[alan peter kelly]

my broken bones whisper with their pins when weather is about to turn...beneath scar and calcification....harks a herald no other man made barometer knows so conclusively...biological bureau of meteorology...serendipitously implanted...with cold comfort as memory to go with the forecast of inclemency...i still prefer the cold...the beach in winter...the warmth under blanket...but then...i live in the hottest state on the hottest continent on earth...love your work...makes grey turn something more than mere biology,,,

nice poetry i wana say ewwww to the arthritis but i also wana say awwww to the way in which you described it through the autom season :) Very nicely done :P this strangely reminded me of someone trapped in something they can not escape.....

[Bard Constantine]

Fortunately I can't relate physically... but I enjoyed this anyway. There are many poems right now about changing seasons, it seems to be the theme for poets right about now. This one is unique as it doesn't deal with relationships or emotions, just expressions of... you. Time for you to move to the tropics ;)

[David W Moore III]

ahh, my selene fix for the day is a bit more sedate than normal. Thanks for the color note, we wouldn't want anyone to complain about fonts or colors, would we?
It's a beautiful tribute to man's (woman's) struggle with an often debilitating disease. The imagery is on par with your best. A sunshine bask on the mesa! Sounds nice even without the RA

[Robin]

inspiring ~ striking visuals ~ I can feel the healing warmth of the red clay under foot

[Matthew Kult]

Hello Selene,

A difficult disease RA can be. You have sprinkled plenty of truth upon the pains and suffering of this through the horrid humid days, be lucky you are not in a lovely wet city like Saint Louis. Never a dry summer.

Regards,

Matthew

[Pax Analog]

I think of Scorpio Dylan Thomas's "green fuse which drives the flower."

Because even tho' your poem has the meditativeness of seasonal reflection, it quietly powers through the changes, registering approaching dormancy, the vulnerability to chill, seedlings again growing through ice, coming to rest on vitalistic "Mars" w/the desired homey warmth of "red clay."

"Winter locks me in an icicle shell/rime breath in interlocking snowflakes/
decorate the panes of glass I build around my soul" -- tho' this aggravates arthritis, it's a beautiful cathedral of contemplation.

Here in SoCal, one has to drive up in the mountains to find true winter, in that season. It's desert warm most of the year, w/mild seashore nearby. People come for the weather, then disappear between the cracks, join a patchwork tribe, or grin in the glare of celeb fatuity. Meanwhile, the sun shines dispassionately.

This Leo radiates solar warmth year-round too. ;-)

I like seasonal changes myself. . .

[C]

Turning with each season like the very earth itself......how like you. xoxo

[Ed Hart]

you are not your body, you are the very light that ignites and plays upon the strings, dear one

[Solitaire-P0ette]

The sense of season changing....the phases. relates to life changes...moods....situations...it applies to all. Great work =)