Frost
Dreaming of that first frosty autumn morning. Where the ice covers the tiny blades of grass and the air smells of smoke from chimneys.
Dreaming of leaves turning a golden yellow, orange, and brown. A time for pumpkins and turkeys.
Where the air turns brisk and one can start to see their breath as they laugh and talk. I’ve never been one for spring and summer.
Unfortunately, I have a long wait, it’s only just begun.
