Hibernations
Soon trees are going to drop their scraps everywhere, and the sky empties it's gold earlier. Sister prays for us, that our eyes are not going to get frozen shut, and our teech ache from frost words in early morning commutes. The bones hibernate. They will emerge with skin next year when the thaw comes. For now, frost will crystalize on sidewalks and god breaks his tooth on a curb. You don't really become anything at this time of the year's time wheel. You wilt and go dark, until light awakes you, and your petals open to the warmth of rain, the carelessness of nature and the brilliance of it too. We all will rejuvenate later on.