By Joseph Roque
Born in New England, I was raised on a diet of adaptations.
The concrete-certain change in seasons was my first acquaintance with inevitability— same as taxes, death, and a steady stream of stress and sorrow that were part of the adult lives around me.
Only years later did I realize that there was much more to the seasons, an awareness that came from breaking out of that private, self-centered cocoon we sometimes weave for ourselves
When I was a child, my views of the world were totally different from rotisseried adult perspectives:
Spring meant longer days, more time for outside fun.
Summer was what heaven must be like: no school, beaches, baseball, and fishing.
Fall was “not cool” because it meant summer ended and school summoned.
Winter had Christmas, slippery snow, sledding and snowball fights.
How fluidly fickle my perceptions were, different at each stage of my life. As an adult, I came to cherish all the seasons as a teaching tool from God:
Spring celebrates new life in a bounty of colors.
Summer owns sensational sunsets, gentle ocean breezes, and an infinite symphony from Nature’s flora and fauna.
Fall suggests maturity, mirroring my life with a seasoned landscape as full and robust as finely aged wines.
Winter is for reflection. As winds howl and snow swirls, I dive more deeply into the meaning of Christmas and allow myself to melt into warm memories of those I’ve loved and who loved me in return.
This is our time for reflection and reconciliation with God, and ourselves. A steadfast determination to live life fearlessly to its fullest.
Unafraid of mortality, grateful for every blessing received: large or small, seen or unseen ─ especially those between the spaces of life that were unnoticed until now.
Joseph Roque is a poet who frequently writes about life, love, loneliness, growing older, alienation, and the joys of youth. His poems have appeared in Psychopoetica, Mad Swirl, Aphelion, Death Head Grin, The Poet’s Haven, RagMag, and Cerebration. His latest book is Ashes And Excuses.