Hello snow, hello youth
Hello rain in a silent evening.
Hello flowers, hello blue skies
Hello end of all hurting.
Hello January and hello May
Hello July and every Sunday.
Hello holidays and all days of December
Truly your one month to remember.
He was summer
I was fall
I was spring
He was winter
We’d never meet
Not even able to greet
For when I was ahead
He stayed behind
When I stayed behind, he went ahead
I fell but he didn’t
And I guess it’s all well and fine
Because I realized his cold heart
Was what he gave to me
The sun is piercing hot in this tropical weather
Summer is creeping around the corner
Cold drinks abound
Chill under the coconut tree
with Halo-Halo in hand
The heat of the sun is melting the ice cream
while the kids lick as fast as they can
Some dreaded the rain when it was abundant
Now, they ask for it to come
Since the land is dry
and people flock to the malls and the beach
There they stay until the sun bleeds snow
or at least until it melts into the horizon
All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him — at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off; — and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man — one man — can’t keep a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It’s thus he does it of a winter night.
– Robert Frost