Seasons of Love

I have climbed the hills of all seasons, found love, and descended; I have found it through heat, rain and snow, and lo, it's never ended. When others are sleeping, I'm out in the woods and the fields, reveling by the grass and the trees. But the question remains, which is my preferred season? Love is a year-round affair, and it's surely a treason to yield to less than four season. To go with the drift of seasons is love's real reason; bow and accept love's logic or simply love unreason.