soil and the change in seasons

heat then coldness. the aftermath felt like being stuck too long in the catacombs; i hid beneath the gray oak tree - spellbound when snowflakes began to leak into vision blurry. the coldness became a knife that gripped, clutched a door screaming as hinges scraped raw flesh bleeding. the earthworm wiggled out from moist ground: finding streams arising in deserts longing to go back to an old sun. her head hangs low, dreary, wearied down by the clouds standing between me and you. warmth never felt, the cool air trickles down spines whose marrow is congested with traffic jams. sirens wail but cars do not budge, each heatwave that leaks out, another impassive face walking away while day light robberies become the common denominator. cold heart slices through warm breath the birds watching simply take off to clouds the wrap around like a blanket comforting. then the sizzled sands suffocate, breath like fire in a brain no longer thinking clearly, the frost bites numb fingers feeling illusions, memories. wild roses permeate into a dense heart no longer recognizable - save the hands that clutch still the beating soul wrapped around this distance, this standoff that is neither hot nor cold. a sun's reflection in hot streams colliding, then i come face to face with warmness like life, transforming, changing, becoming. becoming.