She seduces me each September—
warm summer kisses
tasting of frost and smoke;
her voluptuous dance,
flamboyant raiment discarded
piece by piece,
revealing more and more of bewitching nakedness.
But it always ends the same—icy tears each December.
Still, I know I
will fall
with fall
in love
again.

Tony Jasnowski teaches English at Bellevue University. Can there be any doubt which season is his favorite?