Winter will come.

The leaves will fall;

turning our deciduous inhabitants upend, seemingly exposing roots to sky.

The snow will descend;

mystically transforming our landscape into something more purely plain.

The wind will blow;

grabbing each of our senses as its shrill howl passes across our faces.

We push back our desperate yearning.

Spring, with its rebirth,

or fall, with its palette.

These seasons are too obvious;

We enjoy the themes of winter.