Jupiter Seasons

A Poem

the salted air crystallising on the colour wheel of skin tones,

the crunching and cracking of shell beds under pressure,

the rolling tinkling sounds of the tides pulling in and out,

fossilised teeth and smoothed, colourful glass somewhere in the mix,

the giggles and chuckles as tiny feet and hands smack the ground.

glacier blues roar across the shoreline, yet winter does not exist on the sands of jupiter

only dancing rays, whether light or spotted eagles, caress our shores.

spring finally indicated by the crinkled leather-like packages left in little piles -

white, hollowed out shells of proof that the fight for survival has begun for new life.

the manatees no longer huddle by the hundreds at FPL, the waters grow warmer,

the sargassum blooms and the snowbirds pile their bentleys and beamers onto the trucks,

the final signs that winter ever existed beyond our little town, shipping back out before a breeze hit.

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-p