Seasonal Puzzle

When I recall my youth it is  
a hot Summer, ground growing nowt,  
water shortages, bitterness. The same bitterness that can be replicated
by Winter light.  
It chars veins, only escaped  
by swimming in deep expanses  
of water,  
as if one could drown it  
slowly, with continuous breath and strides -  
as if the exceptional never happened,
delved hard within  
my best and worst,  
beating bloodied drums of love  
and war.  
I grasp at the grain of you.  
I am grateful to you for adjusting the temperature,  
cooling my skin  
rarely miss  
the core sensation of burning bacon,  
of endurance  
and taboo.  
Where there is you there is a mild Summer and a snowless Winter -
and no extraordinary  
wonderment...
 
but then that was exhausting my pale, fragile bones.