So many seasons to sew
harvesting last Winter
keeping its ice in my freezer
to cool my beer
the Anti Christ to my Summer
cause I’m blessed to be drunk on this hot as hell Summer’s day
smiling and sunburned
knowing with no photo
I’ll never remember this day
still Summer dies and Autumn dies and Winter gives way to painful memory
and painful future.
But I didn’t crack open that first beer to toast Winter
it would be sacrilegious on such a glorious Summer’s day
I’m just musing at the fact that the reason my beer tastes so good
is that it’s been chilling in the same ice that I scraped off the frozen ground
last January
then six months later I get my revenge
making this ice bleed out
slain by this Summer sun
giving me an invisible sweater to wear into the next Polar Vortex
stitched to my memory that no matter how sharp the ice is
Summer always slays Winter
eventually.