How strange it is to recall the bitterness of a New England Winter's chill
On this Summer day in Los Angeles, sipping from a glass of water as we both perspire in the heat.
Stranger still, that death comes in the Summer, after all that laboring Spring
When life's breathed out of bodies and gently thickens through the sweet smelling air.
Winter stings the nostrils, quickening the blood - lets us know we are still alive.
But right now, I am in the midst of a pleasant day dream.