It is said that life has seasons.
We are born on the green bud of Spring
to blossom in the summertime of days.
Autumn finds us wiser, older,
certainly more colorful.
Winter is suspended life, frozen,
Serenely waiting to be born again.
I suppose I have entered the Winter season
now, as far as numbers go. But still I have
the wonder and awe of my budding days;
the untamed spirit of my summer,
and the rich changing colors of my autumn.
I am all seasons, wild, unbridled, opening
No season can define nor contain me.
And on this, the anniversary of my day of birth,
this is what I celebrate: I am