All Seasons Every Day
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When You Have Mother Nature As A Business Partner
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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
of thunder;
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.

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