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Seasons.

 

{Photo via pinterest.com}

{Photo via Tumblr}

By Joe Kramer.

Winter and others.

Spring, summer, and fall

came here once again,

four seasons in all.

In retrospect,

an arguing bunch

with different agendas.

Not agreeing on lunch,

dinner, or bedtime,

or where the leaves go.

On the trees,

on the ground,

or under the snow.

Time is not merely

a change in the seasons,

however it’s measured,

whatever the reasons.

It’s slow when I miss her,

stands still when she’s gone,

and raced by so quickly

when we were as one.

The seasons and time,

wearing mountains away,

can never erase

what we felt on that day.

With time standing still,

and the sun up above,

The years fell away

when we were in love.

*****

JoeNow in his 51st year on this rock flying around the Sun, Joe Kramer is, at last, seeing the detail in each day’s tapestry; the fabric and the stitching and all of the parts that make up the sum. At 21, he knew everything and no one. At 35, he knew less and a little bit about the people around him. At 50, he realized he didn’t know as much as he thought, and that everyone has much to contribute. He hopes that before 60 he can love unconditionally; right now he can only consider what that means. He believes that we cannot teach unless we are open to learning, we cannot learn unless we are open to hearing. We cannot hear unless we are open to listening. We can listen when we remember: Our similarities outnumber our differences.

{Go Ahead}

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