change of seasons

Winter keeps shoving Spring

down to the ground, again and again

a playground bully

that doesn’t want to share his ball.

Spring retorts,

her sunshine glaring

into the eyes of Winter

shouting “come on, off with you”

but the bitter cold just won’t go away.

round after round they go after one another

sparring,

taking their best shots

back and forth

exchanging blows with

neither making much headway;

on again, off again lovers

condemned to retreat then reconcile.

At some point,

as always

(like clockwork might I add)

Spring will finally have had enough

and turn her back on her old, cold lover

and this May-December romance will shrivel to nothing;

all that’s left is the birth she gives

to the blossoms, the colors and the smells that define her

and forsake him.

She will prance through her days

and nights

unattached,

single…

acting every bit the harlot

flirting with the heat of Summer,

Estival: until she melts under

the heat of his passion

and gives way to his sunny disposition.