She steps through the portal into a morphing summer; shades of green to amber uproar; wind cuts leaves; burned as they turn like shadows casted by time. Each stride she shatters a lumbered tree’s skin, as a grayscale consumes entirety; encasing her temper, preparing for December. The black-feathered crow stalks from a limb, waiting for dusk to suffocate her figure. But her garnet heart is willing to survive as she glides side by side with cool air and dark sky. She lets herself slip, becoming one with it all, becoming one with the Fall.