She's coming. She's creeping in with her cold breath and dark moods. Autumn is holding on and gasping her last brilliant colors, but she knows she's going to lose soon. I'll miss her so terribly.
It's easy to be melancholy when Winter peeks around the corner, heavy luggage in tow. Of course, she has her own beauty, white and stark, her blinding crystals gleaming off the bare branches. Some days I love her wild temper, the way she stops the whole world while she flexes her muscles. Other days I am holding my breath as her icy fingers claw at my heart.
But this year, I'm going to try to find a place inside me to welcome her just as she is. It doesn't matter how much I fight and protest. She's coming whether my hands are clenched in fists or open wide to the darkening sky.