Icy mornings

The crunching under feet,

signalling the end of a cycle.

The Frost bitten landscape,

warmed by golden rays.

Here, two seasons collide.

In a brillant beauty.

The last of autumn,

Clinging on.

The oranges,

Giving way to brown.

Berries frozen on branches

Last hints of a summer past

The gentle haze does mute

But also glazing them,

in an iridescent light.

Twinkling in the morning sun.

Reminding us of the story,

Yet to come

Ushering in the change,

A world covered in ice.

For two worlds can exist,

At one time.