Allow me to preface this before I begin:
I. Loathe. Cold.
Nothing against the auburn hues of leaves past their time,
but I just can not stand temperatures below sixty-five.
Except for today.
There comes a point in the transition from mid autumn to late where the world becomes silent.
No frogs.
No geese.
No cicadas.
Just pure soundlessness.
The crisp fog of my breath against my skin breaks me from my revery of utter aloneness.
At this point of the soon-to-be frozen season, I can appreciate the still quiet.
It is not the silence that smothers me,
but the absense of sound.
In which case there is no distracting me from my own thoughts.
Thoughts that remind me when I walk through the door you won't be there to warm me up.
This hush gives me security,
a peace in knowing I am not the only one chilling,
and changing.
In this very moment, and only for just a heartbeat,
can I feel your hand in mine.
And I am serene.
