The Setting Sun

In the swiftly gathering dusk
the hollows of the forest 
glow with the warm tones
of fallen foliage, crisp and
dessicated awaiting the
snowfall of winter. In those
hollows run rivulets of recent
snowmelt, the atmosphere 
vacillating, uncertain whether 
to accede to fall or winter. 
The arras is of fall yet the 
chill ill wind is that of winter, 
numbing the blood of the 
woodland creatures. An evening 
fire emerges in the sky, slumped
from daylight blue to the
darkling shades of imminent
night; the setting sun
fire-lighting the heavens.