Breathing

The air

That I can never see

Does not make me folly.

Sages have spoken:

To make the most out of sun.

Do not be so into moon—

It is in and out too soon.

To pursue much

When there’s light;

To yield and rest

In the stillness of night.

The bright, longer, warmer days of summers

Will pass, even lovers do–

All head to the next chapter

When things are through.

Comes autumn; comes mellow.

There’s so much to learn

From the falling leaves

That put arts in their sorrow.

Then there’s winter,

A time to pull

And enjoy the best pajamas:

To tuck, cozy up, and wind down the dramas.

Alas, comes spring!

Oh the grandeur, earth endured:

Come forth the blossoms,

The buds, the green, the hope it brings!