Technicolor Dreams

November pulls me under and tucks me into darkness.

Smooth and leafless

the blanket of winter descends like rain

and the cold earth hardens with anticipation.

I sit among the fallen remnants of foliage and close my eyes around the color.

For soon it will be only skeletons decorating these mountains,

like spindly ghosts.

"There is always beauty, " she says knowingly. "You just need to surrender to the season."

So I do.

So I will.

So I try

to dream

in color

on black winter nights

and embrace the beauty of the dead.