New winter
First hint of winter, and the deepest cold,
Giant sun, almost red, almost gold.
Clear skies, bare trees,
Thick crunchy layers of dead, dying leaves.
Deep in the back of the cedar and pines,
An iced over stream, at the timberline.
Crystalline frosts cover the grass,
Gasping and cracking like broken glass.
Rhythmic patterns of breath in the cool morning air.
Plants slowly open as though in prayer.
The stillness is halted by the warbler's call.
As the saintly snowflakes slowly fall.
But the warmth of the day begins melting new winter away.
And we welcome the serenity of fall midday.
