Somewhere In Between

 

The blazing heat of summer makes me

wish for winter snow. When the bitter

cold sets in, I wish again for a warm

summer breeze. I have no wishes in

autumn and spring.

Seems midway between seasons are the

most suitable for me, not too hot, not too

cold, just right—The Goldilocks Zone,

you know.

Does this mean my preferences are to be

found somewhere in the middle then? Is it

so, that the satisfying permanence of per-

fection in the middle is impossible to be

achieved? Then indeed, variety must be

the spice of life.

One thing I somehow can appreciate that

which is, and the other remains the promise

of that which is yet to come.

Is the middle of a poem its best part or

should the beginning and the end be

considered the better?

I began this piece with the blazing heat

of summer. I’ll save it as a reminder as

to how that makes me feel when winter

plummets into the frozen below-zero

wasteland. Then, I’ll look forward to

the promise of spring.

The best and worst in life, as concerns

being somewhere in the middle, like the

weather are fluctuating and cyclical.

Good thing humans like you and I are

an adaptable species.

I’ll have to accept the fact that some

poems (including several of mine) are

considered pure crap. I suppose, to

begin with, one has to accept before

they can adapt.

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 7-16-2022