The Story of the Seasons

I have been waking up every morning to a room of red

Bright red

Red the color of warmth, but also joy

Sometimes it is alarming in my half asleep state

But then I remember

It’s fall


Only a month ago the leaves were green

A warm, beautiful green

Not the green of algae filled swamps or baby food

The color of fresh mown grass




Today the sun shines through leaves of red



Streaming into my room in a rainbow of color

Warmth fills the room

Even though outside those walls the temperature drops


Fast forward a month from now and the Earth is clothed in a blanket of brown

The leaves are dying

The color is gone

The bitter cold runs a shiver down your spine

Despite the layers upon layers used in a desperate attempt to stay warm


Looking even farther ahead the ground is adorned with a new blanket

One of pure white

Soft, as though a cloud decided to rest there for the night

But the raging wind and bitter cold is less than inviting

This is when I remain in my own four walls


Anticipating the color to come again


For now, I will enjoy the red

The color

The light

I know a day is coming soon when it will be gone

But the cycle will not end

The color will be back

One day


This is the story of the seasons

Welcome to New England