His Seasons

Spring  sprouted alive in his smile, 
In the skies turned an iridescent blue,
In the winds that matted his hair with wild lilies,
In the early morning dew, 
In the thin and transparent leaves
—The leaves exalted by the sea of air winter leaves behind—
In his laugh and in his smile:  two plants that grew together,
                                       our roots intertwined.

In him I found Winter:
The tender light and the windy climes
          —Is this where heaven lies?—
And all that’s best of dark and bright
       Meet in his hearth and mind.

In him I found Summer: 
    The tumultuous ocean in his eyes,
his reflection on the sea
and his patience in my rhymes.
The sun bathes in them to a high degree
and feigns his gentleness
that welds us back to reality
and fills me with content.

His name resonates on Autumn
like little drops of rain,
perpetual overcast
the shades of red illuminate.
With traces of wood smoke and sweet coffee and him
Leaves fall like they were in love with the ground.
       Perhaps a love too deep.
                                                  So vast and so unending
  It brings us back to spring.