The light breeze curls up in the gentle sun
and catnaps while we chatter in the orchard.
Last March I met this day or its twin sister.
Cooler than some days, warmer than some others,
it played the referee when cool and warm
met laughing in a friendly wrestling match.
The victor never was in doubt, but watching,
we cheered as Spring pinned Winter to the ground.
All nature then was breeding, taking breath,
drawing into herself the early sun
and all the moisture loosened from the frost.
She fed, and gave back nothing except beauty.
Now Summer drops her baskets to the ground,
takes Autumn by the hand, and in this orchard
they take the first slow steps in a soft dance
into the arms of frost, and frost will win,
and this day-sister must be referee.
We pick up Summer’s burdens, thank her kindly,
offer a toast to Autumn, and drink up.