SEASONAL
the leaves go belly up, dancing with thirst
ticking clock or a clock dead, which is worse?
summer is a waiting game, moment’s peace
what will close sooner? the days or me first?
when I tuck the truths I avoid in fleece
when the welling waves in my chest increase
how brief it is here, the being okay
crashing when the hot winds beneath me cease
it’s missing the step, darkness in your way
how your stomach drops out, it’s disarray
the routine drags you through every cold night
when warmth will return you can’t really say