Summer has forsaken me. The last of his light fades behind him in the distance.
I lay in Autumn’s lap as she sings her counsel for the dark nights ahead.
A sharp snap. Her head shoots up, alert, amber eyes finding the dark hooded figure through the trees. Her body tenses. She pulls me in closer for the last time and whispers, “Ready yourself, child. Winter is coming.”
— written by J. M. Elaisa, from the carelessly titled, ‘Polynesians Can Eat As Well As Write Creatively’. Mahalo.