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.
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