He is the first rainstorm

It’s April when he finally comes

to bring the grass back to life,

using simple kisses and light touches.

He is a rebirth after the cold winter.

He is the first firefly

On a warm July night

With a simple light glow

he reminds you of what it’s like

to be a little kid again

when all was well

He is the falling leafs

when October finally strikes.

The wind is frigid,

the colors are changing,

and so is he

He is not the same lush green he was in spring.

He is the first snowfall of winter.

Coming to take back what he birthed.

He has stripped away the green grass

He has killed the fireflies

He has swept up the leafs

He has taken everything.