The bitter wind is blowing,

and all the beautiful leaves are falling.

You no longer hear any mowing,

but instead, the Christmas carols calling.

"As cold as ice"

may just be a phrase,

but wearing all coats and tights

you feel as if there are no more rays.

Twilight is upon us sooner,

as stars are glimmering at dinner.

The landscape is nothing but lunar;

the moon compared to the sun is a beginner.

The one time people talk about being thankful,

as they have a feast and family surrounding.

You think everyone around is hateful,

and your head starts pounding.

The crunch of leaves,

the wind whispering in your ear.

Lights strung on Christmas trees,

Winter is almost here.