13thWR

WAITING FOR WINTER

The other afternoon I stepped out to stand in the sun.
Rays flowed over my shoulders like a mantle of atomic gold,
but carried on the wind I caught the scent of Jack Frost,
sent ahead as scout by Old Man Winter.
Today I waited in the bookstore for a café au lait
to jumpstart the weekend.
My gaze strayed to the high windows across and out there,
waiting for her lover Death, stood Madame Maple,
already wearing new accessories:
her tresses streaked with auburn,
her arms slightly denuded of the lush raiment she sports
in highest summer.
The year and I grow old.
Time to lay in supplies, I guess.
But where is that one to wrap me close and keep me safe
when Dark comes early and the wolves grow quiet,
circling patiently round my dimming fire?

-Silkie deWinter