Used with Permission
What secret language do the reindeer speak
when tender autumn hovers, trembling
hanging in frost edged grey dawn air
a foreshadowing of frigid cold to come.
Frosted copper leaves have fallen
the towering trees stripped bare
for brittle winter ice is coming
so they hover ever closer together
as the first delicate flakes float free.
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads: Art Flash/55 in November
