Wednesday, November 16, 2016
by Jim Rapp
The worst time of the year;
those days between the last leaf-fall
and advent of the winter's snow.
Daylight grows more dear
as shadows race along the wall
mocking things that used to grow.
Hoarfrost imbues the evening air
and we endure the naked fall,
waiting for forgiving snow.
The winds that bring it bear
a pardon, shrouding all
the weeds the warmer seasons grow.