The Emergence of Emergen(cy sons)

THe SkY: GRAY GrEEn!
oh, crush me with your foot, fall!
shake it if you've got 'em, autumn!
Sting my eyes with your bling, spring!
Oh, I try so hard to care-a, primavera!
drop the plates like a bum(bl)er, summ(bl)er!
fiber my glass with a splinter, winter!
Seasons;
so many bees on my face
in the spring, so little space
to breathe in the spring.