by Irene Daniel
There are no winters here
Our Angels don't like snow
Extended fall, into early spring
That is what we know
Branches once barren
Now sprout green leaves
But right next to it,
And out of place it seems
Is last years leaf,
Clinging, brown and dry
A portrait in survival
It almost seems to sigh
Yet it still dances in the wind
No longer the young beauty
It clings and dances unaware that
It has outlived its duty
Without a bitter coldness
That plunders living things
The cycles turn less sharply
Summers to falls to springs
Without a firm dividing line
The seasons meld together
I know only three seasons now
But I like warmer weather
And when the winter comes again
And snow is piled high
I'll drink iced tea in the City of Angels
Safe and warm and dry
Irene Daniel Copyright 2014 All rights reserved.
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