my front door faces south

The only lasting beauty
is the beauty of the heart.
~ Rumi


my front door faces south, the direction of soft
gentle breezes in spring, sudden changes of wind
in winter, where snow piles up, more quickly
than sand can be tumbled up, in a raging storm

and as quickly as the crystalline whiteness does fall-
it gets weak, it melts, with no remorse... as the direction
of the south is the birthplace of our sustaining sun,

brushing aside a light dusting of white, an apparition
of green sprouts from the undersides of a mum
comes into being, fragile in her shaking off the powdered
sugar, breathing green in early winter knows her
premature arising will be the beginning of her demise

some leaves from underfoot scatter,
a fortuitous burrowing of autumn mum
through winter's deep freezes, january thaws,
and the height of cold in february, frigid breezes,

sun makes an appearance-negligible, in her influence-
iin warming the most open patient heart
hardly realizing the worst of winter stings, then numbs,

the fingers wet in woolens,
the heart as warm as july's baking sun
a bubbling warm apple crumble,
served au natural

within the safety of one's home,
fingers slowly awakening--
to the warmth always known,
in a heart whose home

is everywhere; music is played
whenever dancing delivers
arabesque, jete', plie'

however healing trembles..
because it is only you
with, never against
the elements of the world

Kate Lamberg
11/15/11