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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas #846582 added April 11, 2015 at 1:23pm
Restrictions: None
Seasons
Prompt: Winter can be too cold and summer can be too hot but spring and autumn are usually the most comfortable temperatures. Which do you prefer? What are some places and things that make you comfortable? Why do they make you feel that way?
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Where I live it is perpetual summer with a few days of cool spring or fall if we get a front that dips down to surprise us. This I think is better than shoveling snow, but I also miss the snow-covered scenery under moonlight, although not the biting cold or the snow turning to slush.
My ideal weather is 60-70 degrees with sunshine and some rain because I love rain and sunshine equally.
As to choosing spring or fall with their ups and downs over the other two extremes, it is a possibility, but I remember days, from when I lived in a four-season state, that spring and fall were not all that dependable either, since I recall a Thanksgiving blizzard and Easter snow and extremely cold days in between. Even so, when I was younger, I preferred enjoying all the four seasons.
I don’t know of any place that has the perfect weather for me, now, except for California, which is a state with its own demons such as landslides, fires, earthquakes, and far-out people, and not every place in California is all that even-tempered either when it comes to weather.
In my later years, call me self-centered, but I don’t like any discomfort. I wouldn’t like to be blown out of life with a frigid winter flurry. Neither do I want to feel the melancholy of watching leaves drop one by one in fall in addition to my irritation at my fall-time allergies, no matter how sensational a vision this time of changing colors can be. As to summers, extreme heat and summer storms are just as threatening as skidding on ice in winter. This leaves spring, which I can warm up to better, especially late spring when buds and saplings sprout to give new meaning to hope.
All this empty talk could be because I haven’t learned from life its laws, dynamics, and balances fully, as my basic needs depend on food, air, sun, water, shelter, sleep and comfortable weather. I haven’t learned that the seasons and changes in the weather is based on renewal, be it through hard-edged seasons. Maybe someday, I’ll imitate the migrating birds and follow the weather of my choice. Someday when I can fly; someday when air currents to carry me will stop being so unpredictable.
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