The cool wind effortlessly moves about with whimsical delicacy.
Forcing the cascading leaves to dance through the air with beauty and grace.
The cool wind turns frigid,
Turning the cool breezes into sensations of frozen knives.
The dancing leaves no longer whimsical
Rather,
Panicked and fleeing from the inevitable seasons turn.
A once calm, vibrant, colorful forest,
Temporarily turned, dark, hallow, and harsh
Undoubtedly awaiting the next seasons turn.