Dear Spring

I see now this is all my fault.

Last year, I thought you had left because Summer had moved in again,

And Summer is so loud and flamboyant and demanding.


I presumed you'd come back like you always had,

Right when I couldn't stand one more moment of winter;

With a snowdrop and a rain drop and a chickadee call.


But winter is still here, emboldened by your absence,

Nibbling at my fingertips and ears and perspective,

Ready to enfold the whole calendar in his toothy mouth.


You have made me sorry for saying Autumn was my favourite.

Autumn with its flashy colours, rainy afternoons, gluttonous beauty.


How could I have forgotten you.

Verdant, fragrant, fleeting you.


You are a short season,

But you hold a long grudge.