if you look at the snow as it's falling, it will stop falling.

my autumns
always taken by a thought.
something lonely,
or stark.

then my winters
started too early.
sometimes there's snow
or just icy parts.

in the time between
when i found you,
the large university tree
was strung
and light bulbs
reflected colors.
some nights i'd look for the top...

my evening walks.

ways i knew.

my falls
always too wet.
puddles
on puddles,
and the morning mist just too perfect not to write all it down.