Summer's Death

I can feel it deep in my bones. Winter’s icy fingers are slowly creeping across the earth, penetrating everything from the miniscule organisms in the soil to the flowers and the trees. The air is crisp and cool, deceptively fresh. Autumn is indeed a trickster. The brilliant colors of the turning leaves, the fresh smell of the chilly air – it is all very beautiful. Soon though, the trees will be bare, all of the flowers and plants will have withered and died and even the animals and birds will have gone for the winter. Winter will spread slowly across the land, leaving a barren tundra in its wake. There will be nothing left here but me, standing alone, braced against the cold, waiting. Waiting for spring to breathe those first few breaths of life back into the land and the air. Waiting for the cycle to begin again.