Sometimes spring is Spring. Sometimes autumn’s Autumn.
Winter is definitely Winter. Summer’s always Summer.
At least that’s true for me. Here.
Solstices, equinoxes, calendars. Celestial, human. True. False.
I have many more seasons. Fewer years.
These mild, like summer, autumn days float
with gossamer clouds and filmy spider webs
moving slightly in the breeze and geese
wedging to the lake overhead as I
take off my goose-down vest and rest.
“Goose Summer” is a Middle English term for this kind of late summer weather. See my etymological explanation at whynameitthat.blogspot.com/…indian-summer-gossamer-and-goose-summer
“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” – Lao Tzu
The birds are leaving for winter places
on this, my birthday. I’m staying here.
The seasons are changing. So will I.
I don’t know my destination or if
I will return here. So it is.
October 4, 1582: Pope Gregory XIII declared
the next day wouldn’t be the fifth.
It would be Friday, October 15, 1582.
Ten days from the Julian calendar gone.
And let’s call the new version Gregorian.
In the Pope’s defense, he was trying to fix the existing calendar which was 10 days out of sync with the seasons – but still, a Pope just zapping 10 days out of a year seems like a bit of a power grab. No birthday parties for those born October 5-14 that year.
Calendar autumn. Morning winter. Frost on windshields.
But in this room, spring hydrangea blooms
from a greenhouse or a somewhere spring.
Unthinking, it doesn’t feel out of season,
misplaced in time and space. I do.
In a cold spring, just one day.
Hot blue sky sun has me thinking
summer with the leaves, bees and ants.
But I need to bring plants inside
tonight and turn on wintertime heat again.
Writing the Day 