My skin is late summer:
all golden sunsets
stained with raspberry,
stretched over pale tendrils of green.

My eyes are early autumn:
storm grey from a distance,
golden-green-blue up close.

And my hair is the last colors
before winter,
brown glimmering with fierce but faded
red and ochre and chime.

Maria is enormously fond of all the seasons. She’s enchanted by scurrying cloudscapes, and wildflowers that thrive in improbable places.