Familiar ping of icy droplets strikes the window pane,
Hits the pavement,
Snow, as forecast nestles between browned grass blades,
Winter has formally arrived,
Made itself known
With a frosted cold,
I am a small being,
Against the wind whispering chill upon my reddened cheek,
Against the magnitude of seasons taking place,
Against the backdrop of Earth and sky finding equilibrium,
Against the universe that goes on unfazed by changes over my head
— the life alerting weather shifts that fall down as soft white dust, building into great mountains,
Winter Forecast
She of Letters 