Summer smells like Tata’s sweat after a mid-day jog.
He waits all year and only in summer is he thinking about a summer body.

Autumn sounds like Aunty Thando whining about why the deciduous tree leaves haven’t been raked.
Uncle always waits until they’re all piled up so he can protect his precious gardenia during the winter.

Winter feels like new Homechoice blankets that granny finally makes us use.
She makes warm vegetable soup and obligates the teenagers to listen to her endless stories of the early 60s.

Spring tastes like the sweetness of honey Gundi steals from the bees’ honeycomb.