The morning comes over the horizon, in a flash of stinging light. The thin atmosphere is of no comfort. The sun comes blazing through as if the sublands is exposed to outer space coming into contact with the direct sunlight. It shoots through the air like a stinging pulse of irritation and assaults the senses. Harshly zooming into the eyes of any onlookers to any given morning.
The corruption of the light, being in the throes of a time of death to all under the stars outside, is a cruel limbo. Harsh and unforgiving. A horrible hour over the hour that will end the day in very short order.
Winter is an ugly time. An ugly season. A season of death. Dead limbs and leaves all over. Nothing tidy. Unlike Spring and Summer that clears and keeps green the ground and life outside under the stars. Oh December, I would send a wall of fire at your approach. Burning you up into ashes, as you make ashes disguised of flake and drizzle.
An Observation by Iggy 2015
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