A Man for Two Seasons
by T.M. Moore
I’m in a constant state of readiness
for fall. For me, the perfect climate goes
from winter straight to autumn, sans the stress
of spring and allergies, and all the woes
that come with summer’s heat and sweat. Unless
I’m off the mark, I’m sure that there are those
who would agree with me. Okay, I guess
there’d have to be adjustments—in our clothes,
for instance, and in agriculture (bless
the farmers), sports, vacations, and who knows
what else. But think about it: you’ll confess
I’ve got a point. I much prefer the snows
of winter and fall’s radiant colors—yes,
when leaves fall, nights are long, and cold wind blows—
__to itchy eyes and sneezing every spring,
__and all the perspiration summers bring.
T.M. Moore’s poetry has appeared in numerous journals, and he has published five volumes of verse through his ministry’s imprint, Waxed Tablet Publications. He is Principal of The Fellowship of Ailbe, he and his wife, Susie, reside in Essex Junction, VT.
Three out of Four Ain’t Bad
And just where in the universe, Sir,
Have you lately imagined you were
When the world was created by God?
Just as weeds dare to blemish good sod,
We all think that it would have been nice
Had He first come to us for advice.
Why a creature that’s made out of dust
Should evince such climatic disgust
Is a mystery hard to explain
To a fully acclimatized brain.
If it weren’t for the summertime heat,
There’d be nothing in winter to eat.
If you’re highly allergic to pollen,
And it makes you feel wheezy and swollen,
Then be thankful it isn’t pellagra,
And go purchase a vial of Allegra.
Though you’d rather not dwell on such topics,
Just imagine a life in the tropics.
I agree with your thoughts about fall,
But I don’t care for winter at all.
I live in southern California, where the weather is nice almost all year long. Occasionally, but not often enough, we are blessed with rain.
I was born in Illinois and spent a few years growing up in northern Kentucky, so I am familiar with snow. As a kid, I loved it. Sometimes school would be cancelled when there was a blizzard. I could make fifty cents shoveling snow to clear someone’s driveway. We built snowmen, had snowball fights and once built an igloo in the back yard. As an adult, I am not so sure I would have cared for it very much.
As a young adult, I spent a few years living in New York City, where my favorite seasons were spring and fall.
Kip Anderson is right — if it weren’t for the hot seasons, we’d have nothing to eat. But I do appreciate T.M. Moore’s attitude and preference; the beastly heat of summer can be nigh unbearable. To Mr. Behrens — if you’ve lived here in Noo Yawk, you know what I mean. Our summers are sometimes torturous, and they can linger into October. I’ve written a violently angry poem on the subject, but it can’t be posted here because of the shockingly obscene language.
I definitely know what you mean about the summers in New York, especially since I lived in a six story walk-up with no air conditioning and labored on the streets in the garment district.
C. B.: I was merely stating a preference, not presuming to correct the Creator.
T.M.,
All things in God’s creation serve a purpose, including hurricanes and earthquakes. Some, I definitely prefer over others . . . including the seasons! I do not believe God takes any offense at this. By the way, I enjoyed your poem. And as for “life in the tropics,” I spent 17 years in Hawaii and, although I did not miss shoveling snow, I did miss the cool, crisp, spring and autumn mornings most of all.
T.M.,
Yes, I know. My response was very much tongue-in-cheek, but metaphysical speculation, in my opinion, is never out-of-bounds. The Master of the Universe expects nothing less of his creations, methinks.
Dear T, M, —
I like a change of seasons, but recognize that some seasons are better in some places than others.
So I guess I agree with all of you.
For instance, I like New York in Spring (How about you?) And Joe, it is a long, long time from May till September, isn’t it, especially in downtown Manhattan. But Kip, how wise the Creator was to give us winter so we could learn to cope with contrast and change. In any event, certainly there is nothing like a White Christmas.
T. M. —
I like a change of seasons, but recognize that some seasons are better in some places than others. So I guess I agree with all of you.
For instance, I like New York in Spring (How about you?) And Joe, it is a long, long time from May till September, isn’t it, especially in downtown Manhattan. But Kip, how wise the Creator was to give us winter so we could learn to cope with contrast and change. In any event, certainly there is nothing like a White Christmas.
Sally,
There certainly is something like a white Christmas, and that is a white Christmas. What I dislike about winter mostly has to do with the tiresome necessity of snow shovels and the inability of my car safely to climb the hill atop which my house sits. All in all, however, I think that God has done a pretty good job in arranging things for the creatures that inhabit this planet.
No doubt about that. But that does not negate preferences, just as preferences are not an affront to the divine scheme of things. Spring is OK, and summer has its virtues. But fall, ah, what glory to see geese heading south and trees all ablaze against the gray skies, and to feel the growing chill in the air, and all this a portent and foretaste of the bitter beauty of winter, yet to come. I thank God for all the seasons, and for every day, but I especially delight in the gift of fall and winter. I think I’ve written more poems about fall than any other season.
Yes, fall is the preference of many poets, but spring is a close rival, and perhaps even paramount. If I could find something to hate about spring it would be that this is the season when I must wake up from my comfortable winter stupor and go back to work again. I’ve endured NYC summers, and I don’t care to undergo them anytime soon again, no matter how often they open up the fire hydrants to cool off the kids in the streets. God is good and wise, but it seems He has not sufficiently accounted for every foible that persists in the personalities of His self-centered creations.