The subtle crunch of leaves beneath my flip-flops
shows my disdain for the upcoming season.
I welcome the smells of apple cider and Halloween candy warmly,
but the icy claw of winter will be soon to follow.
It’s not as if I don’t crave Christmases past,
but how, for three long months,
can I endure the shivering, steel of the cheek-rawing wind?
It’s not my fault that summer’s call
outweighs the mush and silt of winter’s drone.
It’s the fault of the icy queen and all her majesties.
I forgive the flakes that fall on my eyelashes,
adorning my nose like a wintertime princess.
So goodbye to you, ugly angry ice.
Goodbye to you.