Things Change

On any given day,
In the heat of a summer’s sway.
Things change.

That’s just how it is, right?
Nothing gold can stay.
At least, that’s what one 
Of my favorite poet’s would say.

The hair on my head.
The hair on my face.

“The Times” headlines,
My heart’s beating pace.

Sirens and loud noise
Quiet and deep space

Things change. 
Does anything truly stay the same?

The Seasons

Beneath,
Between.

Cicada
Dream.

Summer
Fall,

Winter
Spring.