Four modern poems about the weather are not four seasons.

I forgot when I was in a hurry

I am describing a kind of weather.

The fog is thick and the lights are not clear.

Remember that the road is full of water.

Men say it's the same to close your eyes and not look at your face.

The word jumps over the puddle.

A neat broken window.

The door will never open.

Persistent ambiguity

Spring night.

Why is it still wet?

not say/utter a word

Someone shout?

Grass grows wildly from east to west.

Apply body fluids to ice.

Never wake up before dawn

Did you growl?

The ups and downs of the mountains

It always makes my chest roar.

Heavy armored vehicles keep passing by.

huge

huge

huge

I just want to light myself up.

Hanging from the young treetops.

It will be a fire at night.

You can be warm without guidance.