Look at that quaking aspen
Dancing in the breezy sky.
Soon it’s leaves will turn gold
As the starry summer grows old.
Look up at that dark-eyed Junco
Singing among crisp blue mountains.
Soon he migrates to a new home
Into the cypress south biome.
Look at that human in flannel
Beholding the passing of time.
With no clear direction to go
Which season is this? No one knows.
Chad A. Damitz