The Skeletal Season

The Skeletal Season is beginning its decent upon us.
Wiping out the pigments in the once vivid, green grass,
Erasing any signs of leaves on trees.
It turns the air cold,
As cold as ice.
It confines us to our homes,
Daring us to venture out into its icy grasp.

The Season turns the normally bright blue sky into a dark grey mass.
Only rarely does it let sun shine through its long and boney fingers.
It kills off life,
Not granting it any mercy.
It sucks the bright and light colors out of nature,
Leaving it with dull browns for months on end.

The Season decides to stay for months on end.
Sometimes its wrath will be worse than others,
But you will always feel it somehow.
Eventually it will lift itself from us,
Giving us back the colors and life.
But for now,
We must face the Skeletal Season.