6.

She has become a connoiseur
of mid-seasons-

Late-late winter's almost invisible buds
Early-early summer's particular shade of yellow green
Mid autumn, a held breath

As a child she didn't understand the romance of seasons
the piles of poems about fall leaves
the hubbub about daffodils and robins
all the songs of summer sun

But after a few dozen sets of seasons,
she understands:
how grateful we are
and how full of sorrow
that every year,
no matter what,
autumn comes again