Often is winter's arrival mourned
as an icy season of bitter death
but I find it rather a time adorned
with the opportunity for fresh breath.
The solstice is dark and hard to endure
and it represents the pessimist's peak,
but after that those dark days are fewer
and the skies steadily appear less bleak.
So do not mourn the fallen rusted leaf
separated from the embrace of the tree
but rather take solace in the belief
that it will benefit from flying free.
The fallen leaves, once so solemn, stir
from the comforting pick-up in the air.