The leaves turn; become flame and fall smoldering to the earth.
The world is changing, retreating, the wiser ones, deserting,
Birds fly far from here,
A mass exodus bound for white beaches and palm trees that sway in a humid December breeze.
Mammals withdraw, those unable to stand the cold, retreating far beneath the soon to be solid earth.
Flowers wither and drop their buds, extending their roots deep beneath the soil, reaching for the life that will soon no longer be found above.
Only humans remain, daring to venture out, bundled doggedly, shovels in hand, proudly refusing to yield to nature.
Does this make us resilient, triumphant?
Or simply stubborn, and thus most primitive of all.