A cynical September sun sat on the last day of summer
leaving night cold and alone with only the sea to catch her tears.
By the next morning October was already old, aching, and chilly
warming his brittle bones in what warmth there was to be found in the
meagre, sickly sun that had risen that morning.

Gone was spicy Summer, his hot temper and dry wit
had quickly worn out their welcome
so he up and fled south for a season or so
leaving charge of things to quiet Autumn,
who shed her leaves one by one,
growing old gracefully as befits such an elegant season as she.
In time, she acceded things to the icy clutching hands of blustery Winter.
That sadistic season held it all under ice and snow,
and kept the days short so the sun wouldn't grow.
But only until sweet Spring awoke,
drowsy but full, spreading her gossamer wings
and yawning in the last cold hours of Winter's reign.
As days passed, she blossomed, young and lithe
and was all too aware of her of her growing beauty
and capricious nature.
Finally consumed with passion she abandoned it all
just as Summer came north content to hold onto things
for just one season more.

AcB 10.5.00