Summer Days

See the sun rise,
see it set,
colourful and blistering at times,
ripe is the sun, warm and alive with passion,
I also have an affection to something that dominates all our lives.

However the sun is bittersweet in winter,
Not the same as summer, not as warm,
The summer rain no longer exists, it is more a hard hiting power that strikes from the sun and hits your skin with such force only can i feel a bitterness towards the warm vibrant sky.

Now I think of Summer, the summer circles the year,
flowers bloom, water sways calmly in the rivers,
flowing, moving, yet is a gentle vibration. Any time i jump unexpectantly in the river it is calm, cooling.

Winter isn't quite as passionate and i feel a hardness of winter which pushes summer into the windmills of my mine.
Perhaps Summer is just a time for togetherness and winter is a time where you learn to think about the year. The end of the circle and a start to another, the circles unroll and unwind in my mind but close because they can't be reversed.

Yes, the sunshine is warm and i feel that when i write a poem i think solely of this. In a small kind theraputic way this is an ode to summer and a cry for summer to be eternal, like the circle that reflect in my minds eye.