Visits

In winter, like a glacier dream,
  It crawls in silence, void of thought;
In spring, as tears that hearts redeem,
  It blossoms rainbows finely wrought;
In summer, like the seas that teem,
  It whispers symphonies uncaught;
In fall, as drifts of color gleam,
  It aches with memory stretched taut.

For time moves on as seasons do:
  Becalmed at sea or tossed by storm;
No measured moments mark it true-
  It's all of substance, none of form.
The months apart are half the thief-
  You fill me up and make life brief.

--Megan Morris, meikundayo@yahoo.com