Hoarfrost

Did you ask the sky

about the coming winter?

The leaves on the trees

seem to believe

that turning early

is the way to go.

Even the birds know.

They’ve made their travel plans.

They’re getting out of here, man;

you can believe it.

 

How is it going to be?

In that long night,

we are resplendent;

surrounded crystalline.

Never more precious,

that latent survival instinct.

Drain down the heady elixirs

and ready harvest hands

for toil and hardship.

 

I watch the crows

when the ravens come

and boy;

I have seen unwelcome company before,

but this is a land

of bloody competition

when the ground freezes

and time kills you.

I guess it’s too early

to be thinking about hoarfrost

and the way it grows upon ever surface.

Frost-like diamond jubilee

accoutrements.

Like a wedding song,

expressed in water frozen

from the very air.

 

The work comes

and then the celebrations.

The memories

are strong in The Season,

so I don’t mourn the Sun,

or any day of sanguine reflection.

The New Year starts

with the dying of the light.

Good-bye, Daylight Savings Time.

Hello twilight hours

that stretch longer

and longer,

until they surpass the day.

 

What does the sky say

about the coming Winter?

I bet He says

it’s gonna be a cold one.

 

HG – 2017

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