Blow Past the Leaves

Swaying trees shake off their remaining colored leaves.
Falling slowly to their new home,
earth-toned foliage drift to the waiting ground.

The harsh wind continues its rhythmic torture.
A soft breeze here; the gentle push.
A gust of wind there; the harsh shove.

Bitter coldness nip upon exposed flesh.
Animals, of all sorts, scurry to find a shield
against this uncanny onslaught of invisible weapons.

Silence...
...'til the next decisive and preemptive breath of Jack Frost.
Slowly, the creep of the cold's dark shadow sneaks in.

Shift into Fall,
but transition into Winter.
Get ready.