Poetry: The Coming Chill

the summer birds are keening
the autumn birds are preening
for there’s a whisper in the air
and nature knows its meaning

the leaves are turning red and brown
the flowers going far to ground
for the cold is creeping from the north
its wake bereft of lively sound

the squirrels are dashing over the loam
the mice are digging deep and low
for the killing frost is not far off
and its touch will raze both food and home

the animals know the seasons well
for their ancestors both lived and fell
to the subtle knife that freezes life
the coming chill of winter’s spell

[Posted to dVerse Poets’ Open Link Night]

14 thoughts on “Poetry: The Coming Chill

  1. Winter is not my friend, never has been. Energy costs and dangerous driving top my list of grievances. I used to dream of strangling snowflakes. Wouldn’t it lovely to skip, to abolish Winter, move from Fall directly into Spring?

    Like

  2. What great writing recalling those days when I lived in Britain never knowing just how cold the winters would be. The poem certainaly had that chill about it.

    Like

  3. Enjoyed the rhythm and rhyme. My neighbours across the street feed the squirrels peanuts. Those same squirrels cross the road and bury them all over our yard and in my flower pots for future use.

    Like

  4. I am late getting around Clara. I have been distracted, battling with my conscience over my dark, leering, ongoing smirk regarding the news coming from the White House today. Wonderful autumn words here, chill but beautiful. Well written!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s