Seasons Change by C. Fausto Cabrera

CFausto CabreraSeasons Change
By: C. Fausto Cabrera
February 10, 2013


I bite into a ripe piece of fruit

Filling me with purpose,

A blinding succulence answering my wonder.

The juices of ecstasy run down my chin

And drip into the void of a empty heart.

I am invincible

Upon request I flew into the heavens

Toward the warmth of the sun

Until the nights chill grew to clip my wings

Plundering me down to grasses no longer green.


I gather myself,

And look to the branch

Where my fruit once hung.

I stand in awe

At the dawns light shining

Through a motley of colored leaves,

A bright sanctuary of stained glass,

A cathedral of divinity,

Built on the faith of Saints,

Glistening hope burning

on the tips of ivory candles.

But even Angels fall.

Promised words gliding serenely about

Collecting in piles brittle and frail.

Once again I am alone.


I tuck my chin

Feeling tapping of trickles

On my head, through my hair

And down my frozen cheeks.

I see the droplets fall into puddles

Merging with the earth

near an exposed root.

It trace it to the gritty trunk,

My heart flutters as I nestle in

Clad in solitude,

Nourished by memories.

I run my fingertip across

the resilience of the rough bark

Standing strong

It is ugly like me.


The brisk season passes like

An old man on a bicycle

That takes all that he can

Hold in his wire basket.

The vibrant leaves bud

And grow by the light of a cheerful sun.

The luscious fruit returns apologetically.


But what I notice most

Is the loyalty of that which never let,

Even when the seasons changed.