Seasons.

Two Seasons. 

Why should I long for the bitterness of Winter?

Why should I resent days filled with unending sunshine?

The Leisure of Summer wears down my resolve,

With warm days,

The bounty of nature,

And the spirit of the carefree.

Who am I to reject these blessings?

Yet the length of the day mocks my sloth.

Like a fungus growing in the damp heat, summer incubates my wickedness.

The impure in me festers in my leisure and boredom.


I ache for Winter to strip me down and to remove my comfort.

Oh God put me to work,

In days that lack enough sunlight to complete the task at hand.

Bring me before you,

Branches: bare and weak,

Ground: cold and hard,

Through the weakness of my dying limbs,

It is only you God that I can reach for.


In the hardest of winters,

Then I know who my master is and who is my sun.

When I have nothing, I know who to turn to.