The Tender Times

Treasure the tender times while they transpire.
burrow beneath your bunker, be brave
enough to endure the enoughness,
the pure peaceful pleasure
of a small something simmering soft;
for fresh freedoms flutter fast, and fleet.
Leave longing and loneliness alone.
Why do we waste the wonderful on worry then wonder where it went?
Precious in periphery,
epiphany explains the entropy of enjoyment.
Squander this Spring,  and Summer will swamp you soulless.
June and July are joyless junkets of jerryrigged jamborees.
Heat hits the hottest humid homes. Humanity hums
for a fresh, florrid Fall.