Winter solstice

As Black Wattles golden, the dehydrated husk of Summer is now a sodden sponge that swells and softens. Wind and water chill to bone; as rain hangs a veil on pockmarked mirrors; while sunbaked valleys erode in rivulets; and dry creek beds are roaring rivers. The world drowns and exits flood but our warm wood fire's a reminder of Summer solstice.