Taken from the image used for my poem “Changing Seasons” on SpillWords

My earlier years were as hot and angry
as a California day in August
nowhere near the reprieve of Autumn

I was so uncomfortable in my sweltering skin
screaming at my mother to make her understand

Not until I was older did I realize she
was answering me with equal heat
not a dry heat like a normal So-Cal temperament
but the spitting of sweat on a stove
were our own bodies firing up against the other

both angry at a lack of understanding

It’s reasonable to think that we understand
now that we are older
that the heat has turned to the stillness
of a Canadian winter, slow and meditative

It would be skipping a season
for neither of us are so old now

Each of us is treading our own Autumn
different, but oh do we understand now
no screaming unless it is to hear
each other over the frigid winds we recognize
are in the control of another’s anger

Our talk is warm instead of searing
our sight is better for lack of tears and sweat

I know her days are dotted with blasts
of seething heat and blistering wind
so I keep myself cooler for when
searing summer threatens auburn days

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

©Abigail Siegel 2019

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