left out

how confusing it must be

to wander off into a season,

other than the one you are currently in

you tip toe through the snow,

hoping the sun won't tint you,

yet,

the ice burns too

you prayed for pumpkins and pomegranates

but received pollen and a warm breeze,

some drops too

it's in the trees

the rocks too

"wonder what they know that I don't,"

you say

they look at you,

the lost,

and ask

"what is today?"