Winter is Arriving.
The trees are still.
There is nothing but silence.
The birds and squirrels are quiet.
A chill runs through my bones.
Like a Knife cutting scones.
My hands are stiff as stones.
As if I was sitting on a throne.In the distance, there are moans.
As if a lonely soul was screaming.
Am I dreaming?
I can see Sun Rays beaming through the opening\'s in the dark, looming storm clouds.
There must be a meaning.
Change is coming.