dry skin dry winter

it’s been a dry season

coming to the surface now

 

hot air balloons rise in the distance

spring is here and

no mud in sight, clean shoes

 

cracked lip cracked skin

all those years, parched

and homeostasis still

 

this season is this one, now

part of the whole, of the All

perhaps a bouquet of choices

 

among what is choice-less

looking below the surface

and beyond the markers of time

 

and where I stand, sitting

still or actively creating

amidst it all, amidst all

 

As the All, the all that I am

cannot help but be that

dry skin, cracked lip

 

paired dance, two step three

forward back, circling

hot air rises, takes up wing

 

single piano melody and cadence

joined by a symphonic chorus

that I see all around me

 

Another season will be

will be what it is then

even now that season emerges

 

Apparent in ways not yet visible

the tear running down the face

surfaces after long held heart

 

Cracking a smile has other allies

even if only there under the skin

opens out and then returns quietly

 

like a breeze scattering seeds

that would otherwise reside

close in, close by where they fall

 

singing of loss beneath the breath

keeps the flowers ready to blossom

their scent barely contained and rising

 

crispness of air, spirit, sight, and earth (heart)

such ways sing brightness of their own

elegy only for nostalgia alone

•

cc Janice Sandeen ~ Arroyo Seco, NM