Daylight Saving
So short the days,
so long to burn the fog
that masks the fading
muted reflections.
Orange red and yellow
meld to a soft amber that
drifts and falls slowly mellow.
November morning,
crisp dawning crushed
like the frost tipped blades -
rushed like the years final days
and the colors now gone.
I watch and recall,
once more forced to
be patient while waiting
for the sun.
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