Dressed To Chill.

" Dressed To Chill."


Autumn wears
a patchwork coat
it stole from
bits of Summer,
strung together
by the silkworms
not yet in cocoons.
underneath the
glowing orange eye
of a harvest moon.

Autumn does not
pause in snatching
bright scraps
for its pleasure,
knitted in a
soft deep pile
and treasured
beyond measure.

Quick it dashes
fleet as breezes
flashing its coat tails
spinning whirls
of flying colors
far behind it trail.

Its new trench coat
dragged through gutters
pieces gather there,
children chase its
remnants daily
laughing without care.

Until winter comes
a calling
with a frigid blow
and all that's left
of Autumn's coat
are tatters in the snow.

icicles are needles
through white
blankets they go
pulling frost slivers
behind them
stitching winter's woe.

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