Fall Gloom Beauty of Gray
Death has come upon our summer days. Slain are the days of warm mornings and nights of a cool breeze. We are now upon the lips of fall, slowly consumed till we are in the bitter embrace of winter.
The once open skies are now the victims of the dreary. The frigid gasp of October and the sinking eyes of November. We are now unkindly taken by darkness before our eyes open. The grey skies glaze our souls in the dim.
Our hearts become heavy as the drizzle of sorrowed clouds weep upon our streets. Our steps become cautious as we keep weary to pools of rain. Quickly can our days become uncomfortable as the steady weeping of the sky gives no hope of silence.
But in these bleak and colorless months, there is much between the grey; the cold and frozen. There are colors that only fall can birth. Oranges that cripple a leaf but bring sight to a dying season. There are moments so close to those we love, that summer cringes in jealousy.
We find ourselves wrapped in a blanket as the settling of summer subsides and fires become but a source of heat. Drawing close our conversations and the need of company. Our wings are buried till the dawning of summer.
Our feet become our great companion as we only travel in a distance that can assure us shelter quicker than we can speak. We find ourselves huddled in warmth of our friends as we cheers to laughter. Though it may be cold, somber and dismal to our eyes.
There is still the love our family, our friends that last through any weather. There is no darkness, no drab sky that can keep hidden the smiles of our love. The laughter of times and the comfort of our homes.
Much is in the grey though most only keep of the dull. In the months coming, we are showered in celebrations and grace. We are given holidays that give emergence to creativity, to gratitude, and love. There are days where families combine in joy, though much bickering may come about. But better to bicker with those of blood than bicker with those of business.
We are given snow in the coming of winter. A phenomena of nature to grace us in her breath. Though lonely she may be of man, we are crowned in her designs. In the creations of our god as we look from the windows of our homes.
There is murder in the death of summer, but there is life growing, in the months of the somber.
What is your favorite season? What about it attracts you?
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