The first snowflakes are so delicate,

They do little more than signal Winter

Is coming.

I can’t tell you why they cheer me,

Waken me from bleak summers.

The break of dawn is cliché

When the trees are thicker

With green than even the

Overgrown lawns.

The heat goes beyond unbearable,

Twisted with the humid air;

It sticks to skin and saps

All the fibers of muscle

To a weighty glob of mush

By the time you’re back inside.

I can scarcely recall a time,

However, I didn’t enjoy

when the branches

Were naked and bare.

There’s little fun compared

To trodding through dead

Leaves crisp underfoot,

Skipping in brisk air:

a vibrant rush to the lungs.

It’s a time made to refuel

My taxed heart,

To cherish the moments to come.