I always wonder how people live
where there are no seasons.
No summer to teach them
to boil over
with opinions.
No fall to learn
the artistry
of old age.
No winter to remind them
to be quiet.
No spring to be lavish
with new ideas.
As this long extra bit of summer
blasts her last swollen words,
I understand
that this is her way
of burning a desire into me:
savour everything
because there is a gift
in the change,
and there is also a gift
in cherishing
what is still
here.