with a sameness that comforts
and surprises we are not prepared for.
We welcome sun that follows shadow
shade that cools heat;
our terror is always new
when terra firma rattles
clouds roll up into funnels
chaos comes down on our heads
all in season.
Seasons have a shelf life
like thyme in a bottle, they lose their flavor
when they hang around too long
like stew freshly seasoned and stirred to full flavor
we appreciate the fullness of their time
cool mint in summer
pungent cinnamon and cloves in fall
reds to chase the chill of winter, paprika and chili powder
dill, chervil and cilantro, delicate flavors of spring.
Eras mark places of no return
eras rappel us up mountains
offer us new footholds, show us unimagined vistas.
There is no going back
there is only going forward.
Eras donít season the stew
they abandon it for new recipes.
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