A chilly wind blew through

and the giddy, swirling, confetti leaves

dropped to their destiny

weaving a fire-hued carpet

on the cold, damp ground.

And the trees stood

bare-boned,

having lost their coats of many colors,

reaching their skeleton fingers

up to the sky,

knowing though the sun has dimmed

and the breeze turned biting,

again will all be well

when Spring comes ’round

in time.