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Description
Autumnal

The world is changing again; turning in on its self. The vibrant emeralds that so delicately decorate over our heads are turning to rubies and citrine. Slowly the vibrant green fades to reveal a brighter hue that stands out against the pale blue sky. But even after this spectacular color change the gems fall to the earth slowly as if they spiral down through crystal cold water. They leave the shade-bringers bare and skeleton like to some eyes, though to mine they stretch to the heavens, yearning for the eternal beauty of the gods. But for now, as the sun rises, without their gems they are as our guardians as we walk, scaring away the demons in the night and offering comforting shelter with gnarled arms and hands.

As the cold grows the air of life plumes from our lips. If you look close enough at the clouds of twinkling white-silver you see white horses, thundering across snowy tundra, kicking up soft clouds of powder. They kick up their feet and prance as they run, reveling in the cold; you can see them age from young fillies and colts to fine animals in their prime. Suddenly they toss their heads and trumpet a silent cry of glory that rings silently in your ears before they fade, a new herd generation to be born on someone's lips only a breath later. Again and again they run, leaping and galloping for the life they have been given. They care not how short their run is, but revel in the grace and wonder as they do. The glory of white horses lives on in every white breath of life.

A frozen mirror surrounded by unspoiled pristine sugar lit by nothing but the moon and stars, which dance in the sky like anxious faeries, is a quiet place late at night. During the golden daylight hours people come here to dance over the mirror, gliding to leave unsteady or near-professional signatures in the mirror's smooth finish. The shining silver light from the moon and the dancing golden glow that radiates from the flame in your lantern meet and swirl over the mirror, spinning in dizzying yet complicated patterns before finishing with a beautiful finale. Unique light-as-air crystals float down to the earth to cover it in another comforter of white, covering the imperfections in its old layer which has been disturbed.

The door of a house is filled with warm yellow light that makes your skin tingle in hot anticipation. Inside there is music, a snapping fire hungry for more fuel, and people who welcome you and help remove the layers of cold which on the other side of the door were blankets of warmth. A cup, the cool harsh ceramic transformed this time of year into a warm smooth surface under your chilled finger joints, steams like ribbons flowing in a soft evening wind. The plush surfaces and thick blankets that drive the cold from your body like the sun banishing the stars from the sky every morning surround you as you sit by the fire. Smiles bring to mind the sprites of fall, the clever yet impish creatures that frost the windows of your car over night and make the hard wood floor cold every morning. Laughter sounds in the room and reverberates like bells. Some are small and silver, others bigger and copper while one is overwhelming and iron.

Looking away from the luxuries and out into the world through a mirror already visited by the sprites of fall the cool colors of the leaves stand out against the white. Individual crystals of water partner with bright orange maple leaves to dance till the earth swallows them as you take a sip of hot warming cider that dances on your tongue with spice. The arrival of autumn has finally come to blanket the land as the earth goes into a peaceful stagnant rest.

Description
Autumnal

The world is changing again; turning in on its self. The vibrant emeralds that so delicately decorate over our heads are turning to rubies and citrine. Slowly the vibrant green fades to reveal a brighter hue that stands out against the pale blue sky. But even after this spectacular color change the gems fall to the earth slowly as if they spiral down through crystal cold water. They leave the shade-bringers bare and skeleton like to some eyes, though to mine they stretch to the heavens, yearning for the eternal beauty of the gods. But for now, as the sun rises, without their gems they are as our guardians as we walk, scaring away the demons in the night and offering comforting shelter with gnarled arms and hands.

As the cold grows the air of life plumes from our lips. If you look close enough at the clouds of twinkling white-silver you see white horses, thundering across snowy tundra, kicking up soft clouds of powder. They kick up their feet and prance as they run, reveling in the cold; you can see them age from young fillies and colts to fine animals in their prime. Suddenly they toss their heads and trumpet a silent cry of glory that rings silently in your ears before they fade, a new herd generation to be born on someone's lips only a breath later. Again and again they run, leaping and galloping for the life they have been given. They care not how short their run is, but revel in the grace and wonder as they do. The glory of white horses lives on in every white breath of life.

A frozen mirror surrounded by unspoiled pristine sugar lit by nothing but the moon and stars, which dance in the sky like anxious faeries, is a quiet place late at night. During the golden daylight hours people come here to dance over the mirror, gliding to leave unsteady or near-professional signatures in the mirror's smooth finish. The shining silver light from the moon and the dancing golden glow that radiates from the flame in your lantern meet and swirl over the mirror, spinning in dizzying yet complicated patterns before finishing with a beautiful finale. Unique light-as-air crystals float down to the earth to cover it in another comforter of white, covering the imperfections in its old layer which has been disturbed.

The door of a house is filled with warm yellow light that makes your skin tingle in hot anticipation. Inside there is music, a snapping fire hungry for more fuel, and people who welcome you and help remove the layers of cold which on the other side of the door were blankets of warmth. A cup, the cool harsh ceramic transformed this time of year into a warm smooth surface under your chilled finger joints, steams like ribbons flowing in a soft evening wind. The plush surfaces and thick blankets that drive the cold from your body like the sun banishing the stars from the sky every morning surround you as you sit by the fire. Smiles bring to mind the sprites of fall, the clever yet impish creatures that frost the windows of your car over night and make the hard wood floor cold every morning. Laughter sounds in the room and reverberates like bells. Some are small and silver, others bigger and copper while one is overwhelming and iron.

Looking away from the luxuries and out into the world through a mirror already visited by the sprites of fall the cool colors of the leaves stand out against the white. Individual crystals of water partner with bright orange maple leaves to dance till the earth swallows them as you take a sip of hot warming cider that dances on your tongue with spice. The arrival of autumn has finally come to blanket the land as the earth goes into a peaceful stagnant rest.