The sweet breeze is the epitome,
A constant reminder of life's simplicity.

Simplicity is when the leaves begin to descend in Autumn,
Yet their elegance does not go forgotten.

Orange and brown and yellow and red:
Just because the leaves are gone, there is no need for dread.

Soon, a chilling gust hastily rushes toward the window,
Stumbling over its wobbly feet to utter a “Hello.”

With every slam of air that hits
Like a beat that's out of order, it's

Something freshly familiar.
A welcoming whisper of winter.

The flush of wind stings, it bites.
But, it comforts me on lightless nights.

I grew up thinking that this was
The worst time of the year because

The liveliness comes to an end,
But it's where the soul and spirit mend.

A “farewell” to old affairs and a “hello” to a new beginning.
A time to start fresh with a clean slate: the epitome of living.

The sharpened icicles and their sliding fingers lose grip,
As the sun scorches, their skin decides to drip, drip, drip.

It's been expressed that all things must face darkness
Before all things can embrace and harness

A beauty that's shown with a blinding sparkle to the snow,
And street lights that flood the road with a glow;

A beauty that's in the voice of a muffled snowfall,
And a harmony of the breeze whispering to the house's four walls;

A beauty that's ethereal and alive,
And a reason to continue to thrive.