Winter arrives with full measure of haste.
Sweeping Autumn from our scene,
a lyrical landscape turned muted and clean.
Bourgeois ideals turn to expectations displaced.
This Old Man forges movement keen,
and oftentimes, billowing a peculiar esteem.
Hello Winter. You are habitually novel to taste.
I’ll season you with warm and fuzzy everything.
For I am content with mere window-gazing
and random acts of smiley facing.