Early Snows

Winter’s long arms flung wide,
her fingertips chilling the close hours and
stretching past the blanched tomorrows –
we take her hand as a mother’s.

Let us linger and leer at yellow leaves,
shivering in accordance with the season.

Please, let us not remark on
how a part may die and drift away
while the remainder slumbers,
fed by dreams.

Autumn Frost

The flags of summer have all flown
And now are strewn about my home;
Begonias lay, all drabs and grays,
Suffering in degrading ways.

Some subtle portal called my own
Through which the sunshine stabbed and played
Is rayless, dark, with doom foretold
Of slush and sleet and snow and cold.

The season slips towards decline
With brakes stuttering in the slide;
Screeching shrilly,  joy-dead drunks
Hunker down and enjoy the ride.

Yet there are roots and dreaming trunks
Patiently waiting to revive.

Winter

I cannot survive another winter, here.
In Spring, I plant the hard-shelled seeds
and watch the fingers erupt from the earth;
In Summer, I pluck the flowers, the fruit,
the fragrant things,
the offered vittles,
and in Autumn,
(that most loathsome of seasons),
I watch the vines curl, the leaves
prune and blacken, I
see the fruit molder,
fluffy mildews, crown-rot,
fireblights;
the vibrant greens drain to brown,
to gray,
Drooping at every frost
like sickly children.
I think,
I cannot survive another Winter, here,
and long to see the Spring.

Survive the Winter

To Halt The Bud Before The Blooming,
See The Shadow Of This Sorrow Crimson
This Bramble Slows The Growth Of Flowers
Misery Of The Winter Dulls Lingering Color
End Each Moment Hiding That Emotion Distant
At Cold We All Wonder Between Stars
Last Night Shared Secrets Left Us Weeping.