how do things, seasons, change?
surely a tilt of an axis cannot fully explain
these transformations
but read into it and eagerness to stay is
wild and unwavering
also the sun sort of fries the sorrowful,
but only when they're under it the ones
above are comforted with delights we
cannot comprehend
is this all there is? work and no play?
or play and no work? is there ground to
tread or a scale to measure
or are these worn out metaphors just a
lifeline to sustain such a heartbeat as mine
or hers or yours

-cj