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Dance of the Seasons
She walks through fresh snow
Footprints light, barely
Brushing her toes against
Frigid powder.
Upon her head, icy
Leaves, branches, flowers,
Lace themselves down through
White hair, merging into the
Soft pearly fabric of her robe.
Icicles hang from the sleeves as
She embraces a crystal sphere;
The only colours within a white blizzard,
Glow and swirl.
Ruby, amber, and sapphire, they
Dance gracefully. Slowly, the
Shapes stretch and mold, until
Figures emerge, beautiful women
Naked and natural, never ceasing
To dance.
Scarlet and golden leaves poke out
From the hair of the ruby woman,
In the amber’s: summer flowers,
And young sprouts and blue-bells, the first
Signs of life threaded into the azure
locks.
They dance and swirl, touching each other’s
Hands, arms, legs.
Separate but never truly
Isolated.
The white one carries them now,
But soon her time will pass
And the others will have their turn
To carry and protect the rest.
