The Easy Season

I feel alive when you, Mother Nature, come with a sting
and a chill. Fighting is much more pure with you than simple
adoration. Your wolves won’t play nice,
why should the weather?
When your sun returns and triggers love—
warmth—I feel left with a
saccharine spring.

Threaten me with an ice sickle, try to freeze me
inside out. Your cold, unwavering power cannot
just vanish. Where does it go? To another place?
I want it here. Batter me. Bleed me.
Give me victory when I prevail yet again.

The easy season can wait, I know it can.
I’ve seen your power through thunder,
through cyclones, through the way every 
animal fears winter.

I suppose you see me as selfish. Wishing
you to be a heartless competitor.
Frankly, I know who you are and your capabilities,
but if you’d rather mask yourself
for your sun
then I suppose I could tolerate
spring’s false-beauty-flowers and feathered song
until we face off again.