Late Upon a Fallen Season
Frost crinkles late blooms, a lacy white netting
invades upon a morning haze.
Fall sheds itself, undrapes heat
discarding warmth in leafy twill and tissue.
Later the sun will counterattack
the chill will melt
upon a tepid winds still gilded breath,
yet
a shade of winter is moving,
weaving itself into the mud and earth,
it is tracing a chill unseen river
and where that cooling pauses
the living must find cover
or pass away.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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