For My Seasons

The earth suspended in space

tilted as it is

creates the variations

in parts of the year seasons

People create their own

progressive visions

often more than four

certainly more than ten

the direct shine of babies

unashamed of its breath

as the teachers will claim

that sin is in the first

a first look at another person

to know their difference

from fingers to feet

with taught skin or wrinkled

a knowledge of love

the depth of its pain and pleasure

as wide as a night sky

or as a rock freshly cracked

the inside and the outside of space

what is mine and yours

as if it somehow didn't belong

to the whole of burning leaves

the hair in a comb

some of them with color

a first day betrothed

or gray as skin in final stillness

these are offered as some

of a trip around the sun

measured and never the same

as leaves turn to earth

So many to glory in

as music winds it way

up the spine through skin

scintillating in a bold breeze

Barry G. Wick