The air is chilled.
Clouds in a hue of blue
that feels frigid, making
exposed digits ache and stiffen.
Autumn sweeps through
and it’s true that fall is only days old,
but the cold will have you believing
that looks are deceiving. Summer is gone;
can Winter be far behind?
I find that this respite is a diversion,
an excursion through the year of seasons.
No reason can suffice to quell
crimson leaves and ice .
Copyright © Walter J. Wojtanik -2012