He awoke, threw back the curtains, and greeted the new October morn.

Half lidded, crinkled, kind eyes assessing golden red and yellow hues anticipating whatever so called beauty was before him in favor of the future.

Knowing that the beauty before him would only increase in intensity he saw the colors brightening to the full flower of their incandescence only to fade, slowly, into a sweet death. Separated from the limbs that gave them life with a graceful dignity falling gently to the ground, cradled in the arms of a clear, windless day, their death gave life in the name of survival.

With sure knowledge he mentally stripped the gloriously colored limbs seeing nothing but bare branches clacking randomly in a relentless, cold wind. He knew with certainty that the death shroud of ice in the immutable, stark winter to come would surrender to the life giving mercies of spring.

Turning from the window he did not draw the curtains.

It perfectly suited his mood.

He awoke, threw back the curtains, and greeted the new October morn.

Half lidded, cynical eyes assessing golden red and yellow hues dismissing whatever so called beauty was before him in favor of the future.

The brilliant colors turning to brown, falling, rotting into black masses of slippery under footing caused by the cold rain falling from flat gray clouds. Knowing that the leaves gave up their color in curling death, not mourned by the limbs that gave them life, mercilessly cut off in the name of survival.

With sure knowledge he mentally stripped the gloriously colored limbs seeing nothing but bare branches clacking randomly in a relentless, cold wind. He saw them lifelessly frozen into immobility by the stark, immutable, unforgiving will of winter; cloaked in their death shroud of ice.

Turning from the window he did not draw the curtains.

It perfectly suited his mood.