Waiting for Winter
I wake up with the sunlight through my window.
Outside, the sky is full of clouds.
The geese fly in formation, heading south,
Following the sun on its trip beyond the equator.
It is November, and fifty degrees seems warm
As I walk down the driveway to get the mail.
Already the snow has frosted the grass
And the leaves have fallen from all but the oaks.
In the afternoon, darkness gathers,
Curtains are drawn against the black of night.
Soon the ice will come,
The earth will sleep with cold dreams
Waiting for the warm Spring rain.
