It is nigh.
one inch of white snow
summer’s last grass sticking through
like Sunday’s stubble
The weather report
is more important to me
than it used to be
Hummingbird feeder
glass jar, red plastic flower
sweet frozen water
One thin cotton sheet
Ices over my morning
Warmed by daughters’ glee
bare boned autumn trees
naked before the elements
the cold light blows through
morning compost run
leaves green tracks through frosted grass
the hammock, empty.
Garlic bulbs planted
six inches down six apart
just before the frost
Snow on the mountain
viewed from the valley floor says:
“seal up the windows”
chilly riding to work
traded cotton pants for lycra
‘sok, who needs cool?