if i wrote about winter
on the back of a starbucks menu
with coffee stains and coffee smells,
would you feel the snowflakes
miniature yet icy
bite your reddened cheeks and outstretched tongue?

if i sung about early-morning autumns
in the steamy hot shower
echoing in the long empty hallways
would you see the grey mist that cloaks the streets
wispy threads of fall-season cloud
and the yellowing of the leaves?

if i carved against a smooth surface
about lazy summer blue skies
and the warmth of the sun
would you hear the intense crash of
each wave against the rocks
and the excited shrills and laughs and chattering
at the beach?

if i painted on a blank canvas,
patiently waiting for the picture to conjure,
about chilly spring breezes
and the foggy spring rain
murmuring of what's to come
would you smell the fragrant
dainty flowers that grow by abandoned houses
or from dew-strewn grasses on the park
or the post-rain forest earth?