As summer unfolds
the scent of dusty roads
urges us to roam
the succulent fig
the crimson mulberry
overcome the mother’s call
to scurry back for dinner

Instead, we scatter
like sheaf thrown to the wind
and there is nobody but us
in this unraveling earth
for we are
ones of a kind

When winter comes
frost kisses with its lips
the sills of our windows
its curling fingers
grips the air without a touch

Then, we slouch back
and huddle like a flock
of penguins in the Antarctic
seeping heat one onto another
waddling in circles
flowing as a whole
a collective race

From without inwards
from within back out
we are
together, and apart