Grow Together, Evolve Together

The seasons spin their slow revolutions through my skin, drawing lines, adding motes and mottles with their patient brush,

To be alive, I think, is our duty, for all whom have gone and left this garden to us, to tend, to savor,

And this season is part of me, and I am part of it, light reaching down it's red hands, wavering on the asphalt in refracted specters, my blood coursing through the lines and hollows, watering roots,

Spring has come to pull all desires up from the slumbering earth, to beckon with iron and salt, with mint and leaf,

And the hours that have slid through the narrow abdomen of glass to settle have given me this purchase, this moment, cumulative in their cradling palms,

So many hollows for want of water, gaps in the canopy of hands where a friend has fallen, but I know all things are circles, unbroken, spiraling back into their berths to fire anew