October 31, 2011
By my highly mathematical calculations
I've come to determine
that most people generally seem
to hold Winter to be their least favorite season
and Summer to be their favorite.
It is my hypothesis
that the love of the in-between months
is where one really makes their stand.
Is it the blustery unfurling
of new green,
or the startling flame
of trees topped in amber that you love?
Is it the quivering of barely contained growth
or the gathering in of light
in the face of darkness descending
that makes you feel like you are coming home?
While I came around quite a lot
to the delights of Springtime this year
(in large part because of this book's influence, I now think),
and I know I will be very glad to see it again
come March & April,
if there is a camp for Autumn,
put me in it.