I love the Summer for its light,
and the Spring for the light that is coming,
and the Fall for the last vestiges of it that hang on
like spiderwebs tying the night to the day.

I love the Summer for its light,
and the Winter for its darkness.
But as the season wanes and marches on,
I wish the light would stay.

How can we stand here,
among these most melancholy of shadows,
with the warm wind at our window?
How can we not say,
"I love the night but dream of the day."