The Cold Comes

The cold comes following an endless spring that lagged forever into summer where it could not keep its hold then returning again in autumn to linger on the trees and low in the grass. Now, comes the cold chills dropping twenty degrees barely reaching thirty with frost forming on the vines along the silvered rooftops wrapping around fallen leaves. Tight, full and unrelenting crab apple and sugar maple hold firm their form paling yellow greens tatter edged ochres tinge crimson red tips rustling, wrestling with the windy breeze. Squirrels wait patient thick furred and bushy tailed feathers running to and fro with acorns nd walnuts clutched in their mouths searching for that perfect spot to dig and bury next years saplings. The cold comes, chilling both body and bone enveloping this hideout of the world wrapping round the trees and brush marking my corner of the earth as life slows down embracing a winter watch.