I found this prose and rewrote it for the winter. Here’s the original

Tonight the world wraps us in cool silk and softly the delicate fabric touches the soul tracing a glimpse of autumn across the senses. For the breeze whispers between heavy golden boughs bathed in a waning sun riding lower in the sky ripening tall grasses hanging bowed with buff-coloured seeds.

So we come to this time of miniature frogs clambering from warm ponds to feast upon the regal ant couples that fill the dusky balm. To ripening fruit and swelling roots that shall make us give thanks that the summer has come and still yet shall linger. For our heart would stay in the warmth a little while.

And here’s the other

Tonight the world wraps us in cool silken flakes and softly the delicate icy fabric touches the soul to melt and then trace a story across the numbed senses. For the breeze whispers to me as I walk in the cold and its voice is always inspiration.

So we come then to the cusp of a new cycle and slowly, in me, will awaken the call of the spring to come. I hear the words, but as yet my heart is empty and only golden boughs bathed in a waxing sun riding higher in the sky will assuage me. For until then my heart would stay in the cold little while more.