I belong to the falling of leaves and gingery, mauve, oak trees.

There are fields of pumpkins to be made into jack o'lanterns and 

lovely cider to go with rosy cheeks. 

I belong. 

I belong to six feet of glistening, pearly snow, and layers of glossy ice. 

There is hot chocolate after sledding, topped with ivory whipped cream and 

window scrapers in the back seat, the are defrosters on high.

I belong. 

I belong to the reblossoming of daffodils and tulips, hydrated by the April showers. 

I sneeze from pollen, aimlessly floating, to torture my nose

and snow days after a week of sunshine.

I belong.

I belong to the smell of campfire and rich, delicious s’mores waiting to be eaten.

I blend the lake, sunshine, and friends to construct my summer.

I wake late to the smell of cut grass and pancakes flipping. 

I belong. 

I belong to the four seasons of Wisconsin.