Succession
Oct 7 2023
Underfoot
the crunch of leaves
in a warm sunny fall.
The squeak of freeze-dried snow
in a cold hard winter.
While spring
brings the squelch of soggy soil
sucking sound of mud,
and kids
in rubber boots
splashing through standing pools
of ice cold thaw.
Although I'm not sure about summer,
because bare feet
on hot sand
are quiet,
and no one walks on water.
I think more of smell;
the first rain
on sun-baked blacktop
after a long dry spell,
the scent of wild flowers
and freshly cut grass.
Of course, it's always summer somewhere.
Even now,
as fall is fully ripening
and winter's bearing down
just over the horizon.
Looming
like a heavy cloud
that blocks out the sun,
casting a cold dark pall
that will last for months.
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