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.