If Autumn is the age of gluttony
‘Twixt Winter’s sloth and Summer’s glorious pride,
No sin, you think, can sully childlike Spring
For there is nothing on which vice can feed –
This is the season soil brings forth the seed.
Oh, but the sin of spring is surely Greed!
* This is the first stanza of what I hope to flesh out into a full sestina at some point before the month is out.
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