Poetry – Seasons of you

You are the late September
Spring long forgotten
Taking its raindrops and green sprouts.

You are no summer
Its touch hot and clinging
The air thick and smothering my lungs
Like fast breath and desperate lips.

You are absent from winter
Despite sharing December’s chill
As it freezes rippled white blankets
And caressing snow dipped pines.

You surpass the fall
When the crisp air steals the color of my world.
Trees shedding their pretenses
Stretching skeletal to the overcast sky.

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You are my late September
The ground still warm underneath my toes
Replacing the fading memory summer’s suns.
Rich and fiery unlike spring
Not burning out fast like summer.

You are the leaves full of crow’s song
Goosebumps prickling my flesh
Brilliant gold and earthen brown
Crimson as the morning skies
Blazing in defiant glory.