“SEASONS (3)” by DORINA COSTRAS

In autumn, you are reborn before you die. You can taste the possibility of life in the crispness of the air, you can feel the excitement mounting in the flush of colors erupting across acanopy of leaves. There is a revival in the raw contrast of colors,the burnished gold of pumpkin and squash, the brilliant blue and gutteral gray of the moody skies, the howl of the wind that hisses of coming snows and storms. In winter, you will retreat to the warmth of places within, within the home, within the body and soul, within the story. You battle the elements just enough to survive, and dream of a warmer tomorrow, and master the monster astride your trusty snowboard or skis. Winter melts away to Spring. The tentative first warble of a songbird regaining her bearings. The gleaming blackbark of a tree peppered with bright green leaves, until it is then patterned by soft pearls of rose-white blossoms. The green stubbleon hillsides, flushed with a hopeful, promising mosaic of wildflowers. And summer, scalding spectacular summer, with a vengeance hot enough to burn and wilt your will, and an embrace warm enough to soothe the coldest hearts. With fresh-made wine sweet enough to wash away your woes, and lounging cats that wonder why you work,and seasonal fruit that dribbles down your face and gives you a glowof happy days.

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