Change

Winter, winter whispers
as aspen leaves turn into gold,
Brilliant moment in the sunshine
to let us know the year's grown old.

Soon the leaves will be falling
like golden snow upon the way,
Vita brevis in the sunshine,
Momento mori touched with clay.

And yet, with every scar from falling leaf
next year's bud waits patiently
through snow and gray and winter's barrens
to leaf out green when time to be.

Alright. Not sure where that one came from...The leaves really are just beginning the very earliest transitions around here, and you have to know what to look for to see it. My mums haven't bloomed yet. Usually right after they bloom, the first snow hits. Yet still, the air, the light, the season says "Autumn is knocking at the door."

And so it is.