Summer has an indubitable cruelty about itself while erecting insolently upon winter --- Encroaching foliage, choking with vibrant vitality, constricting the last drops of breath from skeletons with names like cottonwood, elm birch, Their bones moaning from the heft trespassed against them. Where some might see beauty, I am intrigued by the selfishness as summer greeds what nourishment remains in brittle appendages for it is not the fruit that sweetens the marrow, that delicacy is designed for the adornment of summer that hangs from burdened limbs like an incapable curtain rod. Summer invades like locusts, devouring everything it needs, leaving winter trees to suck their sustenance through dirty rooted straws having just enough strength to endure summer’s assault. Should summer’s brief existence be questioned as to the stewardship of nature, on the account virtue is not realized in such an abrupt