If Seasons Had Tastes

More whiny love poetry.

If seasons had taste,
When the fall rolled around
And I was out of your favor,
the smell of rich, acrid woodsmoke
Would evoke the tears
that only you seem to be able to coax.

When in Winter
And all the world is asleep
Save for the grackles,
crying hungrily for food and warmth
I sit,
I stir.
Maybe I dare to blink.
But the cold icy stare
Tells me I shouldn't even try.
Why won't you open up?

And when spring graces the planet once more
And the ice begins to melt,
Maybe, just maybe
I'll see a hint of smile.

But summer, oh summer,
When as you said
the cares melt like sand,
I cannot help but think of an hourglass....
For if you throw the sand away,
What good is time?

And through the year, through the changes and the push and pull of pain and laughter, joy and forgiveness, coldness and withdrawn and subdued passions....

...I wonder, do seasons have any taste besides bittersweet?