Inspired by the particular kind of wheather
that we see during Autumn’s Start.
Spread fogs, hesitating clouds,
the sun saving its warmth and energy till next year…
Looking at the lands early in the morning
we can see the fog that seem to wipe the cows’ legs.
As if they swim in the mist…
My father always loved this kind of wheather.
He’s still here;
I know he’s so happy these days…
And he says: “This is My Wheather”