The Holdout

Winter comes, so what,
Says weather, you wrote
All that already.

The best belated,
Most celebrated,
Cerebral, famous,

Or pop-song writing
Lyricists of all
Sorts of media

Can’t resist seasons,
And why not? What lives
Safely ignore them?

Prepare or migrate
To bear with the change
Whose shape is certain.

Oh, you don’t want to
Be ready? Don’t want
To write lines on snow?

You will, said weather,
Once I’m back and you,
Fool, forgot to go.