Spring

One of four siblings,
the youngest surely.
Or am I the oldest?
I’m not that sure.

I bring new life
and crier of warmth,
but hay fever, too,
is in my power.

Autumn has color
but touched with the decay.
Some call her Fall.
I think she's fine.

Not like my bother,
cold in his lungs.
Winter his name,
in darkness carries death.

So, season of choice,
who would win?
The one with power,
of course; it's Spring.