The poem is Articulated your Spirit..Seasons are my spirit i do believe I turn into wolf in October at the Harvest moon and then a Snow princess in Winter xoxo and Summer is the night kiss in breeze of warmth ! 🍁🌖🐺
October is so very much the liminal space of manic-depression tension. Walking on a wire, which way will I fall as the daylight fades? The bed rotting and shopping season beckon like wicked witches in competing gingerbread houses: Choose the sad spell or the mad spell. Are the witches real? Am I real? Am I being watched by ghosts in old photographs? Will candy corn and apple cider prevent gloom smothering me in mid November?
I loved August as a child. It meant lazy, hot summer days playing in the sprinklers, going to the pool, drawing on the tiny front porch in the shade. My birthday and toys.
August has become smoke season. We wanted to get in the car and go away from home, but it isn't right to leave the animals for someone else to evacuate if/when a fire comes to our neighborhood. We're surrounded by hundreds of thousands of acres of kindling.
The smoke drags me down and makes me lazy. It's worse than the heat.
Things have changed. There used to be days of smoke, a week of smoke...now there's a month or more of accumulated days of smoke.
Sherman, I love this poem. Weather affects our mood undoubtedly, and our moods, including their associated emotions are like the weather. I love the December voices, but I am an April-girl.
Bravo! I especially liked the image of the roof collapsing. That said, somehow (thankfully) your tone seems to me a bit more at rest (because of the solace of poetry?) than the ending of the poem. Anyway, thank you!
The poem is Articulated your Spirit..Seasons are my spirit i do believe I turn into wolf in October at the Harvest moon and then a Snow princess in Winter xoxo and Summer is the night kiss in breeze of warmth ! 🍁🌖🐺
I do live like this.
October is so very much the liminal space of manic-depression tension. Walking on a wire, which way will I fall as the daylight fades? The bed rotting and shopping season beckon like wicked witches in competing gingerbread houses: Choose the sad spell or the mad spell. Are the witches real? Am I real? Am I being watched by ghosts in old photographs? Will candy corn and apple cider prevent gloom smothering me in mid November?
Great poem. It really resonates with me.
I loved August as a child. It meant lazy, hot summer days playing in the sprinklers, going to the pool, drawing on the tiny front porch in the shade. My birthday and toys.
August has become smoke season. We wanted to get in the car and go away from home, but it isn't right to leave the animals for someone else to evacuate if/when a fire comes to our neighborhood. We're surrounded by hundreds of thousands of acres of kindling.
The smoke drags me down and makes me lazy. It's worse than the heat.
Things have changed. There used to be days of smoke, a week of smoke...now there's a month or more of accumulated days of smoke.
Sherman, I love this poem. Weather affects our mood undoubtedly, and our moods, including their associated emotions are like the weather. I love the December voices, but I am an April-girl.
"...collapsed by the ten feet of December that has accumulated on the roof of your soul." EXCELLENT!
Stunning ending. Thank you.
This is a gem. Congrats.
Time the Weather Vane is a fantastic poem. I will read it many times. Thank you, Sherman, for sharing this poem.
Bravo! I especially liked the image of the roof collapsing. That said, somehow (thankfully) your tone seems to me a bit more at rest (because of the solace of poetry?) than the ending of the poem. Anyway, thank you!
As always your writing touches me deeply. I also struggle with peace and anger—too angry to be at peace, I believe.
The last lines hit hard
Captured by mood that does not care what season it is. Rest in Autumn.
Yes. "... let us praise the calendar's forthcoming turn ..."
Wow. So powerful.
You continue to touch my heart.
It is astonishing to me that I can feel the touch of your words so soon after you’ve written them. This is something I never thought I’d experience.