The word of a snail on the plate of a leaf?
It is not mine. Do not accept it.
Acetic acid in a sealed tin?
Do not accept it. It is not genuine.
A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Lies. Lies and a grief.
Frost on a leaf, the immaculate
Cauldron, talking and crackling
All to itself on top of each
Of nine black Alps.
A disturbance in mirrors,
The sea shattering its grey one--
Love, love, my season.
Love usually has many seasons, good and bad, but in her failed relationship, there is only one. 
 There is a circularity to the poem. Love begins in the sun, its failure is associated with frost and winter. But her season, in respect of love, is just a single one. 
 Love is an abstract noun here. Or is it the ‘love’ the person who has betrayed her? Does he represent her season or is she the season? All apply.
The Couriers