And so, the sun returns to idol shrines

With not the days of three between the cold

Of winter. Spitefully, the sun, he shines,

Illuminating leaves that have turned gold.

The darkened days that follow most assure

The heavying of loads that once had flown

Ahead of me, in reach of finding cure;

Too soon they’ll make their weighted presence known.

Without this passing warmth that streaks the sky,

These adolescent winds from wintry lands

Would raise the hair on skin in bumps. Defy

The cold and cloudy nature changing demands!