spring is the season of lovers. velvet air caresses the skin and puffs of erotic wind casually, tenderly touch the body. but not this year. spring never settled in. she was chased by frigid winter, forcing her to flee into the arms of summer. never did she have time to lower herself onto the cool delicious new grass of green, and warmed by a mirthful sun tickling her with splashes of warm gold light. no. not 2011.
the garden is bedecked with flowers of spring, adorned with blue, red, yellow, white, a radiant rainbow of hues, but the sun uttered a curse, and cast blasts of heat, weltering heat fit for summer when the corn prepares herself for fall harvest. what has happened. why have the gods robbed us of the sweetest season, the season of love?
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