A poem for 4 days

October 1, 1998:

Breeze from the refreshing summer morning
Dirt on your feet from the garden
Touch a dandelion, shoot the sun
Feel a warmth that won't leave until you go inside

October 5, 1998:

If you imagine an autumn blazing afternoon
Reds, oranges, yellows and golds
Dying is real, but rebirth is present
It's never too late for that one last swim.
Say the truth: that the spring is so simple
Coming out of the woodwork life revives itself
a CPR of nature is in order
and it falls down with and like the rain.

The desire to run around, roll around in a huddled
mass
Suck the snow off your mittens, look at the chaos
It's chilly, but it's worth it
You can be warm or cold or neither.