The Fall Tussle
Fall, let us discuss
the ways I loathe thee
first we can look at
what has become of my
magnificent tree
all summer long
it stood proud and green
you turned its leaves brown
now they fall to the ground
leaving it stark naked
and adding to my toil
do not think that this salvo
goes unnoticed
truly you are the most
fickle of seasons
one moment a warning
of what is to come
the next a reminder
of glorious summer
that has departed
your nights consume
our days
to the point
that the sun
becomes a stranger
this will not stand
there are those
who choose to
defend you
by comparing you
favorably to spring
but I never buy that line
spring comes with
the promise of summer
and better days
you serve only
as a harbinger
for winter
and all that
may entail
you bring with you
football
but take from me
baseball
laughing at me
as if to suggest
this might be
a fair exchange
it is not
but rather is
another example
of the warped
sense of humor
you choose to employ
I am not amused
no, not at all
in my head
I conspire against you
plotting ways to foil
your dastardly deeds
but nothing comes to mind
perhaps if I brought in
a ringer
Leonard Susskind, for instance
a solution would arrive
but it would be
just my luck
that he is
a fan of yours
no, I must go it alone
so I offer this small truce:
take your cardigans and corduroys
I'll send your cold, crisp mornings
and all I ask in return
is for a sliver of land to call my own
where I never have to hear your name
(Autumn or Fall? Honestly, how pretentious can you be?)
