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My Neighborhood in Season

Published by Wingless Dreamer, January 2022

My neighborhood in winter is an enigma-

   the infinity of ground seamless with horizon 

      creating a vast nothingness on an inscrutable canvas. 

          A mysterious brotherhood of men with carrot-proboscis

             and frosted arms springing forth from betwixt sidewalks;

          silent warriors’ resolve strengthened in cold moonlight

       and twinkling radiance anticipating sultry breathiness.

 

My neighborhood in spring is a paradox-

   inevitable conflict’s rise as obstinate winter 

      resists the onward march of determined summer. 

         A mysterious dynamic of emerging cultures; newly 

            turned earth erupting with famished subterranean beings, 

         blind, wriggly warriors’ quarrel with contentious decay

      and sparkling raindrops anticipating emerald shoots.

 

My neighborhood in summer is a riddle- 

   the harmonious prose of disparate life vying

      for enterprise in golden sunlight and purple shade. 

          A mysterious composition of half notes rising descant 

             above the notorious melody of birdsong and wing flutter;

          eagle-eyed warriors’ vigilance against garden scourges

      and rooted evolution anticipating ephemeral flowers. 

 

My neighborhood in autumn is a quest- 

   chivalrously requisitioned colors, captured 

      in swirling wind and herded atop crunchy piles.

          A mysterious masquerade through stalked mazes 

             and lit phantasmagoria beneath southern migrations; 

          coifed warriors’ pursuit of confections and trickery

      and foraged stores anticipating layered insulation.

 

My neighborhood in quarantine is an anomaly- 

   an aberrant time of reckoning and confined fears

      amidst widespread panic and rarity of discernible fact.

          A mysterious hoarding of paper wares and canned goods 

             under suspicious gazes in vacant enclaves of lost livelihoods; 

          isolated warriors’ soul rebellion against sensational fiction

      and massive expenditures anticipating flattening of curves. 

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