The Gesture of Seasons- Poem reprint

The Gesture of Seasons

What never stays, is composed
in thickness this winter. Vault
white flare, descends this late
evening, evenly in the bare
icicle of sleep that awaits the vapors

of awakening. No longer predisposed,
the lip of the open lake settles
under the violet trees-
instills the mean of spring
days, chances the non-existing.

Summer stands, juxtaposed
in a laugh, too slowly for its yearly yearn,
remembering how change is when
all time is time. The stitch of the momentary pulls
loose one glorified thread that rules

some great explosion, a metamorphosed
tug clawing the imagined
fall: to be dead at the dead wind’s hand,
and indistinguishable as indistinguishable trees against
the passive ever changing labor of thought.

Copyright by Jessica Schneider, Stride Magazine 2002