It is a whisper
It is a whisper of Winter now,
at the end of Autumn
with leaves still falling;
their gentle rustle on the ground,
bright colours catching the sun,
rain beating them to a patchwork.
As the wind changes, the air cools,
and one morning you go out to see
every leaf edged in glittering frost,
your breath speaking ahead of you.
It is a whisper of Winter telling you
of snow, mornings in front of the fire,
and nights spent dreaming of lit trees,
small presents and a feeling
of magic dancing in the misty air.
© Amanda J Harrington 2016
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