One Degree Higher

One degree higher, it would’ve felt like another Summers’ day.

One degree lower, it would’ve felt like a colder Summers’ day.

But on the degree on which it sat; it was sure that summer was losing her foothold. She gripped with all her might, her long, glowing fingers frantically searching for a hold on the vast atmosphere.

But the inevitable had already begun.

Autumns’ rustic fury had begun its advance, one leaf at a time.

One howling gust of wind at a time.

Behind her army of wind and leaves, smoke and fire, winter kept close.

Once Autumn had taken over, once the children had got their candy and once the ghost stories had been told, winter would pick up the pace.

And Autumn knew not to put up a fight, but rather invite the White Mother into the world with open arms.