It’s firmly Fall but there are whispers of Winter breaking through
The way the leaves are pressed into the pavement
That cold burst of wind that blows them to and fro
The way your fingers slightly sting
From that sharpness on the wind
The sharpness that is Winter
Trees are now well empty of this year’s leaves
Asleep and ready for her to flow in
Some places have seen the first snow
Mountains glittering in the distance with fresh snow pack
It’s in this between seasons that I feel the most pain
The most sluggish
I can feel her creeping in in familiar places
My bones being one of them
Elucidating Questions 
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