Change

*I gaze out my window frame to see seasonal change; change in four ways.

First there is the red rose stem full of colour, poking its head close to the pane Second there is the rose bush, flush with colour, in between Third there is the pohutukawa tree in change from white bud to red flower, making ready to shout “happy summer”. Fourth (further back) there is the eastern hill with wavy top, dressed in green.*

They all announce “change” the process of seasonal change. Change in growth and size. Change not noticed from my window frame, because I be inside.

If I be like a bird or a bubble bee, but most importantly like Wind, I’d see change easily because I’d be right there. Everyday seeing how nature does its thing.

Wind would blow me from inside out. From window pane right to hill top. I’d be blown about to help seasonal change, turn everything inside out. Nature’s parental temperament is mostly unnoticeable because it slowly creeps along, not like when Nature’s mood is in the mist of change.

Then Nature is noisy, clumsy, loud and brutal as it changes from inside out. Tired of resting in one spot, it yawns, turns and rolls the ocean wild. The hills slid, lightning flashes in the sky; rain and wind join in to make one big crash

―the living don’t always survive!

Back to my window frame, the view I see, the hill with its humps and gullies\ has bush growing in between and the pohutukawa tree is still (Wind subsides to rest). Rose bush fill of red, looks bright and cheerful, and the single standard rose pokes its red nose right past the sill, to be right in my view!

© stephen c douglas, 13 Sept 22, (21 Bell Rd; from an old draft) for poet.kiwi