What is a plenary life
if not a collection of broken
pieces; lost parts;
the last shreds
of treasured loves;
a splinter of existence;
a last gasp of resistance
the glowing embers of persistence -
the frozen ground of earth gives way
to Spring’s primordial urgings
as the ancient crocus
breaks the soil’s reach
sprouting yellow saffrons;
its profound existence
an honorable presence
of faith in mother’s persistence -
the sultry winds of Summer
break open the skin’s pores
so, to cool life’s passions
with sweet sweat
beading;
running across the brow
in a lush sense
of verdant intense
and fertile presence -
Autumn’s tapestries
fall across mother’s lap
with colors of many splendor
breaking at the season’s
final breath for one last
banquet of earth’s plenty
in a redemptive presence
of death’s essence -
a grey pallor consumes the landscapes
as white blankets
cover the cold ground
and the winds of November
came early
breaking spirit and flesh
alike and away to a long pretense
that life’s persistence might beget an eternal existence.
