As frost begins to cloak the earth,
Summer’s dreams reveal their worth.
On autumn’s breath, they twist and twirl,
In winter’s silence, they lie curled.

Yet in the cold, those dreams endure,
A spark of hope, so bright and pure.
For every wish, a seed is sown,
To bloom again when spring is known.

Haephestus , god of the forge

Exploring/Experimenting with a painted storybook style

Experimenting with negative space and highlights

Some frosty AI finger painting

Post-impressionist late fall vibes

Hypnos, the Greek god of dreams and sleep

As November unfurls its somber skies, a whispering chill dances through the barren trees. It is not yet the gentle hush of snowflakes; instead, it is the freezing rains that descend with a crystalline caress.🪶