The Cold Front

Branches break and harpies cry.

The Lady of Spring descends

through bramble low and canopies high

to find the Autumn's End.

The Feller of Fall arises

from the slumber-spell of the Sun,

and the Mistress of Midsomer realizes

her job is not yet done.

Autumn's Angel kisses the sky,

veiled in the cover of clouds.

She awaits the chill she knows is nigh,

claiming her as he once vowed.

The kiss of cold is upon us all,

and his frigid fingers will not rest

until he takes the life of our Lady Fall;

the Ladies Summer and Spring being next.