autumn wind

Author: Kathryn E. Fillmore
Written: 12/5/06
Introduction:
There are some times in your life when you need justification. Sometimes your song is in a minor key, but you don't mind; you want to have a good reason to cry.

---

And lo, upon the horizon,
The sun boils up from the abyss.
But, despite its blinding shine,
It brings no warmth.
The crisp wind still blows,
With the mournful cry of a thousand choirs.

The world is dead.

The trees are lifeless and bare,
The flowers are limp and dry.
As the wind accelerates,
A stream of dead leaves begin to dance,
As though trying desperately to find happiness
In such a desolate landscape.
It's not their fault.
The relentless cold is the culprit here.

"And what purpose has this cold?" you ask.
Yea verily, a reasonable question.
And therefore, a resonable answer to suit it,
You shall find.

As preparation for the vengeful winter,
It sends all things living into hiding.
Alas, for colder winds doth blow,
And none shall be able to stop them.