The churning of telltale seasons brings upheaval into the light,
color and hue seem to disappear;
scrambling to meet cone blossoms too,
in the natural cycle of the birth of a jonquil.
Texture gains polarity, opposites become duality
and grow with ease.
Temperature rises, sun spots occupy thine eyes,
where such blessings rise to meet grand occasions.
It is the mulch of absolution that brings about change,
the advent of a season dying is purified in gold,
the advent of a new season brings about offerings of change,
encumbered by slight dips from the last,
feeling freedom arise is a spectacle for each,
new eras and born again skies seem brighter than what was, before.
Blue skies and blue whales bring forth signs of recognition,
appreciation dives forth from the under currents,
it is this in the moth of the months where candles disappear,
new light brings forth sensations of freedom and ease,
as if a perfect flower had found you, and not the opposite.
What occurs during the renewal,
time elongates as peonies stretch forth,
jovial for simple freedoms, jovial at life.
Such turbulence should obsess the weary and starved,
affection comes forth from the sun,
rain pours down, a cleansing ritual occurring at your door,
scattered images are placed into segregated slots, all clean,
it is this sacred sense of the essence of freedom
that burns with the crimson light of disappearing suns.
Anna Rozwadowska 2020