Disappeared

It’s clear to me that seasons no longer exist. They only exist as dates on a calendar, marking the passage of time. The rest has faded away to a time and place the planet no longer knows. We’ve had at least five major snow storms in the last two months. It’s autumn, where leaves are supposed to be falling. Normally, snow begins around the middle of November. But this year, expectations for normalcy have disappeared. We’re left with feet of snow as colored leaves dangle from frozen trees.

Winter Arrived in October

I watch the snowfall for a third time this month.
I can't remember the last time it snowed
three times before Halloween.
But here I am, watching it float down once more.

It stopped snowing in late May,
only to return in early October.

Is this just a weird year?
The new normal?
A sign of how climate change has impacted the weather?
All of the above?

Winter over stayed it's welcome,
and arrived just as the leaves were turning colorful.

While I appreciate the snow
when it doesn't stick to the roads,
I'll be curious to know
how these shifts will impact future generations.

A Poem About Nothing

Spring has arrived along with the remnants of winter.
Snow one day, seventy degrees the next.
You never know what you're going to get.
The grass is greener as bees fly
and house cats beg to come back inside.
Days are longer, thoughts are shorter.
Everything looks different upon reflection.
Awareness changes thoughts and perspective,
for once I can look at my interactions without judgment.
The keys on a new keyboard are the best present I could ask for.
Smooth and shiny while working together
without pause or hesitation of a key falling off.
My dry eyes make things coming closer appear
like the wizards from Harry Potter, out of focus
and then all of a sudden clear as crystal.

Crisp in the Air

It’s been fall for two days and I can already feel

the crisp in the air. It makes the hair on my arms

stand up. I breathe in deep breaths to take as much

as this magic in as I can. This is my favorite time of

year because it’s gone in a blink of an eye. It’s delicate,

for this beauty comes from the change of leaving the

earth. Orange leaves stay on the grass until they

get raked up on the weekend.

The Perfect Temperature

(This photo was taken at 6:30pm, 70° F.)

72° F

I’m sitting on my back deck, something I rarely do voluntarily these days, catching up on a few New Yorker magazines I’ve been ignoring for too long. It’s early evening, almost 6:00 pm and the warm breeze is blowing. I can feel the end of summer nearing as I look up to the changing leaves in my yard. One dog is lounging near me on the deck while the other is by the fence, munching on grass. The deck is in the shade facing east. A diet coke is on the glass table, my second of the day because of a lingering migraine. A dragonfly stops on the wood beneath my feet before continuing on his way. The dog by me comes up and licks my chin. My favorite time of year is approaching faster than I realize. The only thing missing is the crisp in the air.