inverted seasons

skating in the wet spring wind
wonder about my inverted seasons past

deep endless winters from which sprang
songs of red love and flashing mortality
faces lighted full
in stoplight snowbank glare
and seeing them complete

then the furrowed summers lasting years
all the words held under stifled tears
to drown
the specters wrapped in hot thunderclouds
at my shoulder always

seeing me now in quiet between i think
maybe i have a pair of shades for the glare
a breath to blow the cloud away
and i ask what kind of person 
expects to survive
who cannot withstand seasons