It is hard to believe that
August is half over.
I lay awake last night
and wondered to myself
where the days had gone.
Surely I did not waste them!
Then I got to thinking
about how time -
and the seasons-
are like a big mansion.
In Spring,
I was at the top floor.
I was high on the prospect
of new beginnings
and fresh promises-
I grasped the clarity and excitement
of each new morning.
I could look out
and see
in all directions
and everything was beautiful.
By Summer
I had moved to the next floor
where the windows
let in sunshine and the heat of the day.
I got lazy and complacent.
My daily view became
familiar and routine
to the point that
I no longer paid much attention
to how fast time was passing.
Autumn comes now
and I'm on the ground floor.
The windows are dirty
and the scenery a bit obscure.
I pull the drapes
and gather sweaters
and spend my days
planning rich stews
and short evenings.
There is a large door
that leads outside,
but most times I'm quite
comfortable just to stay inside.
Soon,
Winter will follow
and push me to the basement
where there is no vision
and no warmth-
where things rot and mildew
and grow darker.
Then, I will wait.
When Spring comes,
I'll climb the stairs
to the top floor-
take a deep breath
of new, sweet air-
and
start another year.
