WINTER COMES TOO SOON
That too-fickle season
Has thrown off Joseph’s coat
And turned to winter.
Gone the leaves
Brilliant matinees of airborne jewels
Illuminated in prismatic splendor
By the sun piercing a brittle blue sky–
Replaced with blackened limbs
Stretching naked arms towards a glowering sky.
The season of alms and hunger has begun.
Gone the pelting rains
Which poured down window panes
Like crinkled crepe paper
Distorting the view of the shearing outside.
Gone too, are the golden sunsets
Where a beam of light transposes
Distant trees, paints the belly of clouds.
The leaves and color are gone
And that is as it should be.
What is now outside
Hints at what is beginning inside–
A long passage through a muted season.