I step outside
Into the still bright twilight
The air with a bit of chill, beginning to descend
And starting to turn crisp.
I breathe deeply, and look to the sky,
She is coming.
The rain that falls
Is icy, yet soft
Mist begins to creep
Eerily along the cold, hard ground,
The leaves begin to shrivel with fear, in their death dance,
She is coming, and fast.
She flies over everything
With her brisk breezes
And sharp, clear smelling air
She paints the sky
Brilliant shades of yellow, orange, red, and pink,
She is coming, and will be here soon.
She is in the changing colors of the leaves
In the smell that fills the air as they burn,
In the way they dry, and drift to the ground,
She is in the setting of the chilly sun
And in the spirits that lurk in every wood and hollow,
The queen is coming
And there is nowhere to hide from her.
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