On a cold desolate day, all the animals have gone away.
It’s time to reflect summers past, autumn has come at last.
The purple haze hangs heavy in the air, as if it came from no where.
We wait now for the rebirth of spring, when the song bird will sing.
The cold north wind bears down on the tiny town of Maple Ridge,
As the tall majestic trees wave to us in the breeze.
The mountains barely visible through the haze.
Now, we wait for better days.
Sherine Stanyer, Maple Ridge
• If there is more to this issue, please let us know about it. Email us at firstname.lastname@example.org. We look forward to hearing from you. In the meantime, like us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter.