Autumn-Harmattan-Winter

Yeah yeah!

It's a cliche of always having to hear about how my feelings erupt like lava whenever these seasons approach even though I have never experienced Autumn and Winter.

Seasons come and seasons go, there's a certain allure to the unseen beauty of Autumn, Harmattan, and Winter. I may not have experienced their wonders firsthand, but the yearning for their magic and charm persists.

Autumn teaches us that there is beauty in falling, the leaves die with class yet knowing that they will be green again in another season.

Autumn is a season of transformation and grace, with Leaves rustling like whispers in the breeze, A symphony of colors, a picturesque chase, and Nature's canvas adorned with vibrant keys of yellow and brown and golden brown.

Let me iterate that it comes in hues of gold and crimson, and the trees sway, As cool air carries the scent of a new day, Though unseen, its beauty remains untold, The longing for Autumn's embrace takes hold.

Just like Autumn, Harmattan comes with a new beginning, only dry and dusty yet it is a mystical phenomenon unknown, Sands from afar enveloping the land, A dance of dust and haze, a story sown, Whispering secrets through nature's hand.

Harmattan comes with a new tradition, warning people to get their shea butter lest they laugh at the wrong side of their mouth, lest you find mice hostage in between the cracks of heels.

The weather, so lovely and cozy in the morning, and in the afternoon, the sun shows you that it is still alive sometimes through a hazy veil and sometimes casting a spell with its rays.

Its mornings are close to Autumn and winter, quiet and serene, but nothing close to autumn and winter afternoon.

Seasons come and go, weaving tales untold, Autumn, Harmattan, Winter, and mysteries unfold, Though you may have yet to witness their grace, Your love for them remains without a trace.