Dew and Dusk

I am spring,

the leftover tears of long winter nights,

Where the sun cowers and the moon scowls,

Chasing shadows back to their homes.

I am spring,

a call to arms,

Breathing life into the barren and naked,

A cool breeze from bursting lungs,

Moving mountains to plant the seeds in fertile soil.

I am spring,

A cacophony of echoes as windows rise to take in my scents,

And people make the world their playground once more.

I am summer,

A tattooed landscape,

Brash with color,

Brushstrokes across marbled canvas.

I am summer,

Arid heat spreading its wings to shower gold onto alabaster skin,

Melting ice cream bacon grease on the broiling asphalt.

I am summer,

Empty schoolyards, rife with tumbleweeds,

And quiet halls resting in peace.

Roadside fruit stands,

Ripe with the toils of labor,

Enjoyed until hard work takes its day.