It was coming.
Sweeping the coals of the sky sooner,
Making the sun fall earlier.
I felt it descending.
Crunching under my feet, endless rustling.
The trees shed their coats,
Eager for freedom,
Eager to sport their slender branches.
But now it’s my turn:
To hibernate in my fall coat.
To spread my wings and fly south for the autumnal winter.
Yes, it’s coming.