It’s crisp, it’s sweet.
It’s soft, it’s bitter.
It’s all these things
Because it’s winter.

It bites, it burrs.
It quickens, it slows,
It acts like a cat,
A creature that knows.

A hug, a kiss,
“Hello”, “Goodbye.”
You want to hold on,
But also to cry.

A time, a tick,
A whisper, a reason,
Yes, it was fun,

For only a season.