Living in the Seasons: a poem

Photo by Chris Lawton on Unsplash

I often wish that the calendar did not guide my seasons.

Those arbitrary dates and numbers don't feel like a natural fit.

I would rather live in strawberry season, 

And as those berries fade I would live in huckleberry time. 

That would be a time to gather in the harvest

To tuck it away for the cold months

of January and February

My memories of summer 

jammed in a jar with sugar and pectin.