don’t go in winter. The ground
will harden. The trees will
splinter. My breath will hang
in the hair like a cloud of smoke
if you disappear.

If you leave
don’t go in spring. The rose won’t
flower. The lark won’t sing. My kite
won’t fly without a string. Don’t cut
the ties your happiness brings.

If you leave
don’t go in summer. The angry sky
bangs like a drummer. The sun bakes
and the lake’s whitecap churns. And I’d die
if you don’t return.

If you leave
don’t go in autumn. The golden
crimson leaves blossom. The apples
are pulled from their stems. Friends
hold hands around the bonfire. I beg of you
not to retire.