She drifted through the waves of the year.
Blowing with the tide.
Sifting through the sand.
The bladed grass.
The dried, crispy leaves.
And the melting snow.
She gracefully danced between the changing seasons,
watching them bleed together.
She felt the rhythm and the beat.
The air heaved and hoed.
The trees applauded and cried.
She let the rain hit her face.
Washing, pounding, cleansing.
She refreshed herself, refreshed her heart,
with the rise of every sun, and the
setting of every moon.
She breathed.
I think seasons are absolutely beautiful. I love seeing the way things morph, take on new colors, new scents, and textures. The way the air gets crisper as November draws nearer. The way your skin feels as summer approaches.
I don't necessarily have a favorite season. They all take on a certain connotation for me.
Spring - prosperity, new things, settling into my routines. flowers.
Summer - remaking yourself, being free, summer nights, twinkling city lights, spinning in circles with your hands in the air so you can feel the breeze hit you in different ways. beach.
Fall - cooking, cuddling up inside, jumping in leaves, rainy days, wrapping up your goals for the year. orange.
Winter - reflection, finals, cold, family, hugs, baking, christmas, giving. snow.
I love feeling the waves of the seasons, the months, the years. I love trying to adapt to the new feeling that reverberates through the air.
It was comforting. It has been warm in Bologna for the past few weeks. And by warm, I mean a blazing 50 degrees.
Then, it got quiet. I looked out my window and snow was scattering through the air. I opened the window, and as I saw my first snowflake ever, I started to quietly cry.
A new season is upon me. Another season of changes, triumphs, losses, gains, beauty, the unknown, and the known is upon me. And as I knelt on my bed, holding my arms open so the snow could fall on me, I literally felt myself opening up to the New Year.
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