Winter is here. The trees are barren, the leaves are dead. I embrace the bitter cold, the emptiness. It reminds me of home. Walking outside , the scenery is all too familiar.
Tinctures of color peak through the leaf laden grass, washed out by the monochromatic skies. The arid wind serves as a reminder that the Winter is here to stay.
The sun scarcely shines past the overcast, yet is quickly engulfed in gray. The earlier sunset is followed by the solitude of the darkness.
Reclusiveness is welcomed with open arms on the bitter Winter nights. With time, the line between Winter night and day becomes blurred.
Days turn to nights, sunlight dims to moonlight as temporal boundaries erode. Autumn and Spring seem to get colder every year, even Summer is not as warm as it used to be.
During its infrequent peaks through the clouds, the sun no longer provides the warmth that it once did, it has become nothing more than a distant star, out of reach and without meaning.
The Winter has become the only season year-round. The only end in sight for the Winter is an end in itself.