Fifteen
Crispy autumn years
Burning beautiful
The leaves flutter like heartbeats and hearty monarchs counting out cooling days
The ending of innocence
soon
Not yet not yet
Sometimes full of shivery cool attitude or sizzling second summer charm
Layers of warmth wrapped in hoodies
Brilliant sun and gray overcast skies of teenage angst and campfire-popping life
Hold on to her beanies those years fly by
Eight
Springing April showers
Mossy mild-dew smells promises of beauty to come
Pressing upward pushing through
Breaking dirt cracking
Jokes Fresh full green giggles and wide-leafed smiles
Just beginning to reach for more
sunshine rays between teardrop clouds
Grounded storm-cloud quick lightening
Attitude Clap-backed middle child wants
Running through yards head and hair thrown back
Laughter like robin and sparrow flight
Barefooted Ponytail pretty
growing like wild flowers touching down for a tiny butterfly second.
Four
Summery years like camping trips
Gone in a sizzle of sass and sunshine
Golden locks wander about like vines
Goodness holding
Wrapping around fingers
A buzz of bumble-bee-nectar sweetness
Skipping hopscotch bouncing bubble beauty
Goldenrod giggles belly laughing
Lemonade stand lovely
Reaching up grasping humid hugs
Holding on
Need a light in sparkling shooting star nights and yet
Smiles like light through sunset pink lips after the heavy-heat cloud-drooping darkness
the rainbow
the sunshine goodness of sticky bedtime kisses and butterfly-flutter-by dreams
An eternal finite moment an ageless time
Winter frozen
An image that never alters iced over
Staying as long as and perfect as a snowflake at your fingertip
An image of unattested beauty fluttering as snowy butterflies
Cacooned in season of stillness
Lips frosted rosebuds at rest
Cheeks curving mounds of whiteness hued blue
Time stopping Silence so loud
White clouds exhaled feathers on tiny wings
A crisp staccato broken ice heartbeat
Silent
Cold perfection
Inhale unflawed love
Smelling memories and waiting
Ever unrequited anticipation
breath held
Still
Stark
unchanged
Forever perfectly pure echo of life
The seasons change in beauty and wonder. The gold of autumn that cannot stay, the wildness of spring that need not be tamed, and the utter brilliance of summer that cannot be quieted. So short a time they stay, so quickly they are altered. Winter though, I carry in my heart a collection of perfectly pure snowflakes, wispy winter butterflies speaking to my soul of sleeping life.
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