The seasons are gone

                                     The Olympic National Park, Seattle- August 2011

The sun is dim
When the day is long,
And the moon is dark
At rush of the hour.

I do not hear
When the friends call,
And no longer smell
The blooming flowers.

The bells are ringing
And the priest is home,
I fear the GODs
When the temples are closed.

Why do I draw
A line of separation, for ME,
When the holidays have come
What if the seasons are gone.