Phasing Through A misty rain dusts my face.
The chill of which lets me know
that Autumn is passing through.
O winter, come thou slowly!
But alas, 'tis nothing new.
This belov'd, firey season
in one breath, is phasing through.
Dying, frost-tipped leaves blaze on;
crispy-crunch with ev'ry step.
Breathe! Behold - her moments, few.