Seasons of Commitment

When she is in good spirits, she's like a warm spring day.
She is the grass that was brown but suddenly vibrant green.
Her breeze is soft and refreshing, carrying the scent of new blossoms.
Her feel is hopeful, suggesting more pleasant things to come.

When she is full of lust, she's like a summer night.
Her eyes flash and flicker like the lightning of an approaching storm.
Her sultry smile draws you in like a cool pond in a secluded wood.
Her touch is that of a forbidden, seductive lover.

When she is blue, she's like a Sunday afternoon in late autumn.
Nothing can change the fact that winter is coming on and only work lies ahead.
All that is comfortable and pleasant has gone into a lifeless slumber.
She is loss, sorrow, regret and despair.

When she is angered, it comes on like the coldest winter night.
Her silence is only broken by the crisp crunch of your boot on the cold snow.
Her stare is an icecicle.  Better to be avoided lest ye get pierced.
Yet you are drawn to her, like the child's tongue to the metal pole on the playground.

In between the seasons, there is normalcy.
We enjoy the season that has passed or the season that is to come.
We try to prepare for the harsh days or recover from those past.
But in all the seasons is acceptance and love.  Never regret.