Where once deciduous gowns were worn
One single leaf clings limp and torn
A lone crow pecks at ploughings petrified by Arctic air
Sounds of silence are gathering everywhere
Last night a gibbous moon sailed west
Kissing the earth as she progressed
With fragile light from long ago
Reflected from our first real snow
That in slow motion spiralled down
Softening the contours of this town
To leave a lithographic scene
And footprints where a fox had been
Warm in our beds we count in seconds
Though days are short the solstice beckons
Weather reports are imbued with gloom
Springtime cannot come too soon
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