© 2008 -- 2011 the Grandpa at The Word Mechanic. All rights reserved.

Monday, May 11, 2009

The Seasons

I New Orleans

The blues the man plays
Are like the early flowers
At the end of our walk —
Fragrant, perennial,
And eternally sad.

II Lake George

The lake was exquisitely cold.
The day unbearably hot.
The water like crystal. And you,
An apparition,
A memory, a promise.

III Cleveland

The night in the upper boxes smelled of sulfur
From homerun fireworks exploding at eye level
Then hanging above the field like gray clouds
Because no wind would push them over the lake.

IV Wolfeboro

The incredible silence of snow
Beneath the pine and birches. Only the whispering
Skis telling secrets to the groomed surface
And you disappearing ahead where the trail turns.
A premonition. A secret fear.
Dispelled an hour later at a table
Looking out over the sun glossed ice of the lake.

Originally published in A Matter of Mind, Foothills Publishing, 2004.
© copyright 2004, 2009 the Grandpa at The Word Mechanic Blog.
All rights reserved.


  1. "Fragrant, perennial,
    And eternally sad."

    Just ONE of the gems here.


  2. I loved that too, "Fragrant, perennial, And eternally sad." The whole thing was beautiful...such a wonderful format of presenting the seasons...well done Grandpa :)

  3. I read them each 3 times to savor the phrasing .. to see the images they evoke .. fabulous!