Are We Cold Yet?

It’s there

     In the air,

You can sense the hawksweeping.

Soon,

     Very soon

It will wake from itssleeping

To bite and to nip

To claw and to rip

To haunt and to halt

In its bone-chillinggrip.

 

Good sense says to hide,

To keep safely inside

Secure by the fireside

To weather the tide.

But fate bids me go

On my trek through thesnow,

And suffer her wrath

As her glacial windsblow.

 

And the taut winterbreeze

Brings the strong totheir knees

As autumn surrenders

To deep winter’s freeze.