There is a fifth season: Sorrow.

Molasses of tears, payless sick days,

The syrup of misfortune.

The sweetness of sugar

Is the taste of oblivion.

A cane is a cocoon

Of centuries,

Of back-breaking labour.

The machete’s rage.

At 5:00 AM

Bodies are delivered

To the teeth of the fields.

A wind sleeps

On heavy shoulders,

Early birds sing

For another century

Of indifference,

Bodies and canes

Become indistinguishable

In the scale of profits.

Between 6:00 and 9:00 PM

They return. Torn hands,

Chewing sugarcane,

Swallowing its bitterness.

Carlo Rey Lacsamana is a Filipino freelance writer living and working in Italy.