Living in the Off Season
It is spring.
The lilacs are greening.
Tulips nuzzle aside the earth to bloom.
In the fields, the sheep bear dancing lambs.
The air is new, full of pollen and promise.
But you live in the off season.
The light is wet with autumn rain.
Leaves litter your ground,
bright and dying, a prelude to winter,
a melancholy carpet of color.
You pray in the morning,
in need of lightning,
fire in your soul, a sword of hope
to change the seasons.
About this poem
Depression. When it’s heavy, I feel like I live in a different season from the rest of the world.
But like the seasons, things change. There’s always light somewhere.
Be well. Travel wisely,
PS – The picture was taken near a graveyard in nearby Salem, NY.