With a million gems thrown from the sky
There is a certain magic
To the first frost of the year
When Autumn's golden halo
Has been kissed by Winter's cheer.
As the sun climbs over the horizon
Your breath's vapors become unfurled
Like plumes of steam rising from within
Its warmth in the chill revealed.
Every twig, every branch, every blade of grass,
Every surface that one can see,
Has been adorned as though from high above
Like diamonds given for free.
Every surface now delightfully adorned
With a million gems thrown from the sky,
And touched with Winter's icy caress,
His love of Autumn not being denied.
Christine A. Kysely (Nov. 30th 2010 - Wisconsin USA)