Last Night Winter Paid a Visit~ By Julia McEllen

The sky is heavy from the cluster of day and appears to be sagging, melting. A rainbow that knows no boundaries, it is wrung out, rich in color, The deep hues blend, molten lava oozing down into the horizon. The sun subsiding into the bumpy peaks of the raised earth. The sunset is like thick molasses in the absence of clouds, and I watch from the window as it suspends the daylight- one inch closer to saying goodbye. The large winged birds nuzzle into the wrinkled arms of the acorn freckled pine tree. The tree that wobbles with the foreign woosh of glacial wind. I watch as the sudden gush of air douses the sun with its chilling presence. it extinguishes the tangerine rays almost as fast as the vanilla coconut Yankee candle that sits atop my nightstand. The luminescent moon bores through the cream curtains, once again reminding me that the world has now gone to sleep.

I slip into the flannel sheets and sink my head into the feathers that lie unevenly under the thin casing of my cotton pillow. My eyes drift toward the window once more, and I see the faint glow of the moon as it softly brushes the uneven smudges on the glass, erasing the window's once translucent essence.  The whoosh of wind rumbles uneasily in my ears. It taunts nature, barreling through the leaf-littered lawns and slicing through the inert surfaces of the scattered ponds which populate the neighborhood. My mind is conquered with the urge to sleep as my eyelids begin to overlay the moonlight with the inky aura of darkness.

When the moon has long retired, the crystal sun rays euphorically poke through my eyelashes, waking my body. I lift the flannel sheets and my toes descend onto the frizzy fibers of the carpeted floor. The window is fogged, numbing to the touch. It pierces through my padded fingertips and tingles the hairs on my air. As I unlatch the lock to look upon a new autumnus day, the window rattles. Frost borders its rim and crackles with the pull upward, like the burning of embers in a malicious fire. There are no hues in the air today, the clouds are purely fair and grey. And I am left with crimson in my cheeks, for the atmosphere is utterly and awfully bleak.

It appears winter has paid a visit last night-

Outside the window continues to howl in the distance. The vintage lace frost obscures the autumn image of the previous day. The muddy, drab leaves have become earthbound under the frost's binding surface. The bikes left abandoned on the damp driveway are dripping with droplets of condensation as the blast of coldness has died down from the presence of the newly risen sun. Rust has just begun to creep into the metal crevices of their handlebars. Hiding from the chilling air and bare of leaves, the trees have begun to hibernate. Curled and slightly crunchy edges of stray leaves on the front porch, are animated by the sudden gusts of wind which begins scraping them across the sienna brick. The sound as if paper is being ripped apart echoes through the window as the leaves are dragged further into the distance. The bice tulips springing high and strong from the mulch mound by the lampost are only existent in my imagination, for the frost has engulfed them, too. Covered in dewy woodchips and dirt, the remains of the tulips lay dead and dehydrated. I step outside, the wind is sharp, and I feel as if the bones in my body are chipping from the force of it. Overhead the steel clouds join as if by magnetic bonds and congest the prongs of sun that shimmer from the surface of the icy earth. There are no hues in the air today, the clouds are purely fair and grey. And I am left with crimson in my cheeks, for the atmosphere is utterly and awfully bleak.

There are no more molasses sunsets or big-winged birds. The trees have begun to sleep, and the wind will not go unheard. There are no more vibrant leaves to crunch under our feet. We can not go ride our bikes or fly our kites.

it appears winter has come again last night.