My name is Spring.
When the flowers feel down, I comfort them with tears.
My soft sobs sing a honeyed melody.
The dandelions and daffodils harmonize gingerly.

My name is Summer.
When your skin is an icy blue, I warm it to a crisp.
My piercing touch is sweet at first, but soon acidic.
The dense air crawls on your neck in a whisper.

My name is Autumn.
When I whistle, I send a thunderous chill down your spine.
My hues vary from tranquil to restless, leaf by leaf.
The hushed clouds brush over the sun, leaving a clean taste in the air.

My name is Winter.
When it's finally my turn, I weep sharply.
My gleeful tears gloss over the ground.
The reflection of my frosted blanket is pure silk and velvet.

Together, we are a tenth of a decade.
Together, we are a hundredth of a century.
Together, we are a thousandth of a millenia.
Together, we are a year.