Heat Wave

Humidity
like the blast
from an oven
Air

packed tight
with corn sweat

Closeness

and hotness

and exertion

Summer revels

cut short, on hold

until the torpor lifts

Summer Solstice

Are we reminded
of the certainty
of change

the ever vacillating day

a reflection

of our own struggles

the crashing storms

an expression

of our own yearning

the heat in its comfort

a recollection

of past pleasures

on the precipice

of season

are we most attuned

First Summer Eve

The heat
in its closeness
illicit the same
from all the people
reveling
in its pleasures
families lined up
for their inaugural
ice creams

murmurs

populate the evening

contentment

the backing track

innocuous chit-chat

replacing the thrum

of the dormant cicada

adherents

to their own rhythms

Spring

before

the warmth transforms
comes

the crud and the mud

that fertile soup

wherein

the worms squirm

and the bulbs revive

False Spring

I overhear commuters

relishing the warmth

bidding adieu

to winter

romanticizing
the 'last' snow

I laugh

at the hubris

the ignorance

as this is but a feint

a tease

a brief reprieve

from the trials ahead

soon comes March

in all its bleakness

the freezing mud

and the floods

and the gloom

the real test

of any Midwestern spirit.

Polar Vortex

I find I am relieved
after several
mild winters waiting

the snow and the cold

the ice and the bite

return, unrelenting

and it is certainly

inconvenient

the layering

the preparation

the deliberate caution

but in a time

when so much

is uncertain

there is a comfort

in the bluntness

of a classic

Chicago January

Air Thick With Frost

The cold
at night

the bite
the darkness

the silence

time cracking

underneath the ice

the world

breath held

in anticipation

The First Snowfall

I'll never tire of it
its sparking beauty

its inevitability

the shoveling and salting

the bundling and slogging

it necessitates

the focus and labor

it demands

bringing all of us

into the present

Glorious

The Gravity of Autumn

The leaves cascade down

to blanket sidewalks

streets and cars

frost creeps

The chill descends

storm windows sealed

dusty coats

come out of stasis

Quiet falls

it is a slow time

a planning time

a time of endings 

Dog Days

The kiss of heat
the calm of cool

the last few days
of summer's balm

before the creep

of wind and chill

a bless'd reprieve

brief and still

Summer in the City

In Chicago
summer comes in at a crawl
in fits and starts
it teases
then retreats

it bludgeons

then recedes

but eventually

when least expected

it settles in

all we denizens sigh

and relish

the promise

once again fulfilled

Winter Solstice

As the night encroaches

we are reminded

to slow down

to stop

to reflect

and take stock

to express gratitude

and give

to come together

with our fellows

to gather

around the light

to fend off

the long dark.

Fall

The arms of winter
slowly close

into a chill embrace

not with malice

but an icy

inevitable

indifference

Perennials

Like the tulips
the daffodils

the grape hyacinth

we emerge

after a period of repose

of dormancy

we are enlivened

restored, revived, refreshed

Spring

in all its possibilities of promise

of fragile and fleeting beauty

of sunshine and sociability

of risk and reward

fertility

in all its implications

once again

the land and its denizens awaken

we are renewed.

Summer Solstice

The Long Day
is a time to bask in the light

to take comfort 

in its heat and clarity

to elicit

Summer's bounty

and opportunity

to be affirmed,

propelled forward

if not with certainty

than with hope.

Equinox

The buds and the mud
and the sunshine
and the longer days
and the unaccustomed heat
and the inside writhing
the waking up
the wanderlust
the itching impulse

and the changing

the ceaseless, inevitable turning

the circle cycling

the perennials bloom

the trees leaf

the bikers bike

the beachers booze

all around, enlivened

Winter Solstice

I welcome the Winter
its difficulty
its capriciousness

in its return

am I reminded

of life's certain

changeability

in its intrinsic

discomforts

am I yearly tempered

enlivened

by cold and darkness

Down Among The Muck And Mire

Down in the muck
the sucking mud
the earth is rich
in peaking buds

Turtle shell

armadillo carcass

detritus left

by winter's tarnish

Thorns and brush

rot and swamp

birds afloat

on Spring's big dump

Shoveling

I don't know if I believe
in the validity of genetic memory
but shoveling the walk after a heavy snow fall
as I have done countless times
as all my Midwestern forebears have done
back a century and more
and countless more before that
in various snowy villages of Scandinavia
and frozen forest bound towns in Germania
the packing, pushing, scraping, breaking, heaving
of that cold white freeze is as familiar
to my muscled frame as walking
as intimate as a breathless waltz
so simple yet so correct for me
in this time and this place
I resonate, echo, back and back
connecting with my past

although I doubt
my great-grandfather Mart
had an ergonomic shovel

Winter

Hello old friend
I can't say I missed you
but there is some comfort
in your familiarity,
the necessity of slowing
preparing, layering
when venturing out
into your cold embrace
brings intention
to the present,
in the temperate months
the season may be pleasant
but can be ignored, forgotten
in its soothing restraint,
but your presence is always felt
your chilly lick
your frosty grip
your unrelenting freeze
accompany a fragile camaraderie
for you are here
and I appreciate the amity.