I approached the poet Son of Sonnet about writing a little something for the slowly approaching autumnality that I crave, and after demurring initially, he popped out this little gem about the changing of the seasons—of the world, to be sure, but also of our lives.

I’m always eager for fall weather, but Son’s poem is a good reminder that we always forget the lows that come with each season, instead focusing on the highs.

Perhaps that’s not all bad; after all, how else are we to endure the heat and humidity of summer if we don’t forget them briefly and think about the pool parties and barbecues instead?

With that, here is “Change” by Son of Sonnet:

Change
by Son of Sonnet

Although the spring is what we crave the most,
and summer’s heat will pull us to the coast,
the autumn always waits for us to yield.
What do we see in colors of the field,
as leaves are strewn along the errant breeze?
As winter wanes, and grief begins to ease,
We know it true that spring will come once more.

Each season differs from the year before,
but we forget the highs and lows they brought.
In ecstasy of spring we crave the lot,
and tumble down to autumn from the hill.
It’s only winter that can keep us still,
the time we feel our souls within our breath,
and by that warmth we’re unafraid of death.