You're made of winter when a sultry snowstorm falls down on the earth with surprise and everything freezes in its place, and the chill of living shoots up the spine and everything is frozen, assests, liabilities, all blocks of ice that crack shatter explode with violence on the horizon You're made of fall when regeneration means death and the air is cutting and not soft like parental spring and when the truth of brown leaves is found in the beauty of their burning You're not light like summers children whose only darkness comes from a burning sun in fact you're more like that sun- above everything and forever sinking c.wordherd