Seasons – Harika Kottakota

You stand in the wheat plains gazing heavenward
Palm rested on the side of a chestnut foal
Cumulus drifted slowly, soft heels dug into clods
Shoots brushed cranberry cheeks, crickets whispered
Their secret melody under the settling dusk
Gold waves to rickety barn, sides infested with ivy
Dismantled windmill blades sprinkled in dew drops,
Seedlings of those scary thunder nights,
Lay glistening like a second sun on muddy sky
Faded fence skewed like an ice skater’s blade
Scraping joyously on frozen lakes under Moon lamps
Waking to Mother’s oven and Grace’s doll house
Father rapt in daily news of some faraway place
Hopping over creaky floorboards, storing static
Against wool carpets and zapping Grandma’s knitting
Vision wrinkling in warm shades like mangoes, oranges
Frisbees dropped, under hammocks or crude tents
Saving scrapbooks from attic cobwebs–pasts, before pasts
Taping our precious scribbles religiously until our
White ceilings converted to memorial mosaics
Dragonflies and Vs of geese enchanted our daydreams
Off to some Everest or Yosemite where adventure lurks
Leather-bound journals lined tables clasping memories
And reminders to future selves to always hold dear
Your heart’s home: acres of beginnings, middles, and ends

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