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Spring
Summer
Wanderlino
Arruda
Almost pregnant of sunlight
and of an illuminated essence,
my Spring walks,
towards a waiting Summer.
If
November is just coming,
I know that December won’t
be long,
the weather smells of change.
The calendar, linking day
and night,
never misses, never errs,
because it lives in certainty.
There
will always be a today,
there will always be a tomorrow.
What isn’t present,
is past,
what isn’t past, is
future.
How
wonderful is a spring Summer!
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