Angel of the Seasons
I lie down in a littering of leaves
And stretch my body wide.
I sink to the bottom of the ocean’s depth
And starfish I am against the sand
I sink into the deepest snow blanketed on the ground
And then I move my arms and legs up and down
Until an angel I have found.
Angel of summer- water lapping flapping wings.
Angel of autumn – leaves in flight.
Angel of winter – crusted webbed wings of ice.
And spring, where is she, scented angel of flowers and green?
She dances in the meadow intoxicated on her release.
You can hear her even now in this empty bowl
Of this burdensome gray, it’s like a howl
That rips through the bare nakedness
And the boughs bend to snapping
As she shakes the last leaves to rattle sha sha sha sha sha
Then the howl softens, it becomes a yawn
Like a stretching awake as she shoots her arms and legs green
And blooming once again, the resurrection.
Angel of spring – a birthing bouquet, baby’s breath, fragrant sweet.
Written by Lydia Griffith, all rights reserved. Please do not copy or plagiarize. (Photo of drawing by Beatrice Connell, age 3)