But I don't hate Winter

Summertime is a sad season for me

not because the sun's shadows shine on our shady little spot

nor because the heat hollows the hungry earth's crust,

wrinkling the bitter pill that shelters our hideaway homes,

bisecting the landscape with smile lines that dice our

neighborhoods into neat, unfair portions.

I hate the Summer.

I hate the Spring.

i hate everyone and everything.

But I don't hate Winter.

And I don't hate you.

I love the way you talk and walk,

and all the things you do.

But Autumn raises her leafy crown

and banishes her siblings to another verse

because where we live together, 

the seasons are reversed

and Winter kills Spring, 

because She, too, knows the cost

of so much night

and so little warmth.

And when I crash onto the decaying leaves in Autumn,

A hurricane season of reds and browns,

I think of margarine memories making me my own man

and the gazebo by your house,

where we remember what friendship is.