An opposite view

Winter is my favourite season, followed by autumn (fall). Summer is my least favourite because it is way too hot and, to be honest, I prefer wearing warm clothing and breathing crisp cold air. Spring is the season I am most ambivalent about – it means that I am leaving my beloved snow capped peaks behind, and will soon be sweltering through long commutes to work.


Spring – the most joyous of seasons 

considered so pretty and fragile: 

a metaphor for love and life, 

and paragon of virtue beyond reason. 

Spring – the underhanded season 

it has successfully waged 
a propaganda campaign 

to create its brand, its name: 

so that we don’t remember its acts of treason, 

the creation of life purely for death. 

The explosion of colour that, too quickly,
is laid to rest. 
Photo by John-Mark Smith on

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