what then is there to be said,
that it is bright or it is plain
the roads cry to be cleared
and people sniff for the stench.
its not the best of seasons;
not as nice as summer
nor nearly as beautiful as spring
it indeed does not speak for itself
it cries to be loved
but offcourse goes unheeded
as questions abide in the hearts of many
why do you litter?
it replies thus:
i am what nature made me
i stand to complete the cycle
of what begins in january
why would you not care about me
and look beyond beyond my physical beauty,
i have more than is seen
all it takes is a little more concentration.