Change of Season
The gray days fill me with nostalgia.I look out of my windowand among the last colors of autumn,there are already many trees with bare branches.Blackened and wet branches thatwhich skeletal arms stand tallas if imploring the sun to warm them,and to the wild wind, respect them.But, everything follows the routine of the months,that insolently change the landscape;and soon the snow and ice will comeand in the prisms, left in the trees, we will see the cruel beauty of winters.