Mother Nature and I, we are going through the change.
Where we once had regular cycles,
We now find that anything goes.
To everything there is a season, my ass.
Mid-life can only be known in retrospect.
Maybe it’s 51 years, maybe it’s 4.5 billion,
Or maybe it’s whatever point you say
Fuck it, I don’t care what you are used to.
I don’t care how regular and predictable I have been.
I don’t care how little regard you have for a woman my age.
When I’m hot, I’m hot.
When I’m cold, I’m cold.
When I’m both at once, well,
You can just suck it up and buckle up.
My sunshine is my business, not yours.
So are my ice storms, and what the hell do you know
About what makes a season?
Stop looking at a calendar to try to figure me out.
Find beauty in whatever I have to offer
Or don’t – because I have, and that, it turns out,
Is all that matters.