So here come the clouds.

They laugh and taunt as they float past in the sky. They know we need them and savor their presence. They float on by.

The trees bare their twigs, stems, and branches, growing fragile. The cold air leaves a chill that burns the core. Scraping against each other, bending, and creaking against the wind.

Leaving the land with a patchwork of shade and sun. Scorching the grasses of the savannah or withholding such sunlight for most of the day.

Crying icy daggers from the heavens, the clouds crowd together. Ganging up on its sworn enemy, the human race. Ignorance must be bliss for those that jump for joy. They'll forget what happens every year.

So, here come the clouds.