with each new season we see the passage of time in living color
we tend to forget all of the wind and the rain as the storm clouds pass
cold grey clouds migrate as i pour another cup of hot black coffee
washed up on the shore we see one life being passed onto another
it’s with mixed feelings that i note the last squeaky snowfall of the year
this moment we’re in where we are sharing this thought has already gone
by the time the mind builds up our anxiety the moment has passed
it’s all consuming when we’re stuck in the middle but then it passes
uptown jack 