Dense air hangs, waits
to unleash a torrent, winter clings
to the heart of those dark clouds,
chilling all that passes through
falling.
Deep rumbles shake
loose the waiting winds while
a grey sky flickers with
flashes of color and scent
dissolving.
A dim purple smell,
billowed pastel blooms,
wither and fall lightly
make way for the crisp and
bursting.
Lush grasses, interrupted
by bashful violets and waves
of proud swaying goldenrod until
they reach their fullness, now
fading.
Glowing dusk slips behind the hills,
caressing each blade and limb
as it goes, foretelling another,
more beautiful flourish
approaching.
One still and solemn
breath before the winding exhale,
now the time is long past for
change steps softly,
transforming.
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