The fields take on a different hue
With the subtle bite that\'s in the air
It is the greatest season of them all
A time to gather what is needed
To store away all that has been made
And prepare for the darkness to come
The darkness truly will come
With a different kind of gathering
A gathering of close proximities
At least that is the great hope
That there will be needed warmth
Comfort in the cold dead storm ahead
But now is the time to consider
What it has all been about
This instinctual moment of provisions
I will look back on this season
And reminisce on the bounties
Even though the night must prevail