The brink of a new season.
The beginning of the end.
How unfamiliar for this time to draw near,
And not bring with it a sense of foreboding or fear.
It is not that this Winter itself will be any different than the last.
Black clouds will bring white snow,
And my city will be muted by the cold.
For one cannot change nature, except for the nature of what is understood.
But that is enough to bring a different end than seasons in years past.
Because winter is no simple storm to weather,
Nor a swirling sea to survive.
It’s a maze to navigate.
A tunnel without end in sight.
So in those dark hours, you need to be your own light.
Hi I’m Andrew, I like crows, coffee, and my cats. Insta is @anesacpeartistsson