Oh Summer is so hard to
take in Winter's 
sleep
Spring is so fragile in the death of Fall's
statement.
Oh you, too, are fragile my 
orange and red friend
and, your statement
also, says Spring
What business is it of yours
says Winter's
sleep
Why do you rouse me?
For the statement?
Am I not the statement?
Spring mutters
and conjures 
a winter spring
a bubbling brooke
and a bit of green moss