Season of Life

The world is a delicate and new entity;

an earth slowly awakening from frozen slumber

shrugging off the frosty shawl of winter

exposing a once barren land renewed of it's youth.

Spring air is perfume so intoxicating

and sweet that one can't blame hummingbirds or

bumblebees for their lusty pursuit of budding

cherry blossoms and tulips.

Colorado night skies are a little more heavy now

long missed humidity soaks the Front Range while

the oncoming explosion of life, a fragrant scent and

bristling chill, whistles in the wind.

It's my twentieth visit from the season of life

and I meet it with strong emotion, for life is

sweet and constant until a comma, a pause,

a single breath ends what we know.

When will that breath steal me away

from this life? How many more seasons

will I be given? How could I know?

Why would I want to?

All I know is just as surely as Spring came

it will leave once again, giving way to that season

of nostalgia and eventually fading into a

crisp Colorado Autumn.

The world sleeps, regrouping once a again

in the hollow depth of Winter before starting Spring

anew, continuing a cycle that offers to add another year

to my tally for the simple price of living.

So I'll live; life was the only gift ever really given to any of us

and I'll live, confident that comma, that pause,

that last rebel breath knows where to find me

when the final grain has fallen from my hourglass.

When that time comes I'll greet death like an old friend

and walk with the Reaper to the snowy edge of the Winter,

through the forest of the unknown's foggy haze

and into an unfamiliar world to meet another season of life.