All Seasons Every Day
When You Have Mother Nature As A Business Partner
The Vineyard Manager’s Long Island Blues
By Christopher Watkins
In this hand I hold water,
in this hand I hold heat.
Call them rain and sun,
but never seasons.
I may call upon the wind
with dawn still percolating softly,
or raise it with the onset of the dusk –
But with a snap of practiced fingers
SHOT! Lightning, then the thump-tom-thump
count the seconds in between
counting one-one-thousand…then again, the thunder.
In my heart it is the solstice,
But my mind’s a melt
of many moving seasons.