Winter's First Kiss

You walk along the shorebank of the lake, as the sun’s crimson orange glow outlines the few wisps of clouds that cling in the sky. The wind whistles through the trees’ drying leaves, as some fall to the ground, in a cascading dance of autumn. The water is flat and still, like a looking glass left outside as it reflects the sun’s dying light. Some of the leaves have landed on the lake, and float about, like small boats rippling the shining mirror ever so slightly. The moon is becoming more visible now, a beacon among the approaching darkness. It is cold as you watch the sky settle down to sleep, waiting for the snow the weatherman had promised that morning. The stars start to come out, yawning as they wake up and shine their light across the universe for all to see. You start losing hope, that the snow might not come, but as you begin to turn away, something catches your eye. Falling stars, millions of them, falling from the sky into the forest and lake below. But they aren’t stars, they’re snowflakes that kiss the surface of the lake, melting into one with the water once contact has been made. And as you take in the view in awe, you think to yourself, how grateful you are, to have seen winter’s first kiss.