There was a breeze of shivers
forcing on a weather thick coat
and wool hat while hands sheltered
in pockets wished for home.
The last of leaves tumble and glide
to a waiting surface, their fleeting
beauty carpets the ground.
The rising of chimney smoke quickly
curves over, merging silently into an
ocean of cold air. The aroma of night
suggests the beginning of December.
Spring patiently waits to breathe out.
Roger Singer 