What is life but a collection of seasons
New and old alike;
Wonderful and absurd and awful,
Not to mention beautiful.

What is life but a rollercoaster
Of highs and lows
Amid unknown adventure?
Its very nature spiking adrenaline.

What is life; now or later?
What is life; future or present? 
What is life but a constant longing
For more, or less, or best?

To which I ask myself,
What is life for you?
What season are you in?

What happens when there is nothing
But in between?
The leaves of summer slowly fade
To fall into winter and bloom into spring.

A caterpillar no longer its name,
Yet not the next either.
Stuck for a time in between seasons,
A cocoon of growth not beheld by any other.

A groundhog sensing change 
Before an eye can see.
Intuition gathering wisdom
Preparing for more or less or best.

What is life but everything 
You could ever dream
And everything you 
Never imagined?

Seasons of in-between.
Seasons of more
Or less
Or best.