Winter's Smoldered Freedom

Certainly November is lovely beyond our intuition and expectation... as it paves the empty roadways with auburn foilage; and the gently hissing wind creates its own cheerful melody, because frickle imagination provides the words of a memorable song! The tireless and wild stallions, with their astounding presence, follow the bridlepath though verdant hills... leading them to a quite pinegrove, where they can refresh themselves into a clear, sparkling waterfall! The familiar sluggishness of an Autmn's day seems to have the same monotony of weary streams scurring away with someone's dreamy mind.... elevating itself to the superb Creation; as the lonesome writer stages his play in a tranquil landscape of a hidden town still untouched by civilization! Like those massive herds of butchbirds and scissortails,at dawn oozing off on rough branches , before taking flight to southerns' borders.... to escape winter's smoldered freedom, not trusting the untrustworthy sky above when the loudest thunder strikes again! Beyond the closed window,. the tearful and lonely widow will surely die of boredom... without feeding the yellow canary that tapped on her open window: how happy she felt to see him... his presence diluted her sorrow, because all she wanted was his company!