Time changes.
It charges on.
I cannot tame it.
I mourn for the heat of summer.
It is recklessness, freedom, and wild abandon.
I grow nostalgic for the endless days that melt one right into one another.
But the time has come for night to spread, to grow, to take hold.
There’s a chill creeping into the air and the waning light plays tricks on my eyes.
The dying season is upon us.
The world is ablaze in red and orange, the smoldering embers of a blazing summer.
Something sinister lurks in the shadows– primordial, ancient, accustom to this dance and ready to begin once more.
This is her time.
She whispers in the wind and goosebumps cover my skin.
Autumn is come.