I'm mother nature's rebel son
whose summer charms I'd soonest shun,
whose grains of life, to me, like death,
will turn me blind and short of breath.
I find the heat that brings forth fruit
a spiteful, unrelenting brute,
and cower from the cosmic gun
whilst others burn themselves for fun.
So give me Winters frosty bite,
the gentle, everlasting night,
when nature's dance is done.