Cold

an arctic grey wolf
arrives on the cold north wind
and sinks its teeth in
–
grey clouds-
english ivy
turned to glass

sudden autumn snow-
wind blown beauty and carnage
behind in its wake
–
cold winds-
whorls and eddies
of fallen leaves

a fire in the hearth-
my well worn leather arm chair
and a mug of tea
–
frosted glass-
your cold feet
under my legs

cold new england streets-
an old oak tree holds onto
the last leaf of fall
–
first snow-
winter arrives
far too soon

worn jungle jacket-
three tours couldn’t prepare him
for life on the street
–
cold sweat-
desert sands
abrade his dreams

hands neatly folded
pinstripe suit and crisp linens
so properly posed
–
early sunday morning-
freshly turned earth
and rough sawn pine

a black bitter pill
taken with a glass of bile-
so hard to swallow
–
november morn-
the push is over
now I taste salt.

low distant thunder-
the smell of fall in the air
as the rain rolls in
–
sleeping cats-
outside the rain
turns to sleet

warm morning sunlight
the dawn breaking in the trees
over frosted vines
–
plumes of breath-
the starlit
ice wine harvest

jewels in the darkness-
a scattering of diamonds
in the shattered glass
–
winter‘s eve-
moonlight dances
on the fallen snow