First Frost

Here you go, friends of poetry…

First Frost

FIRST FROST

While the birch trees drop their leaves to the ground,
littering unkempt piles of gold,
the pines make good on their promise
to remain eternally green.
Blades of grass covered in rime
bend their heads low.
The fickle maples alter their coats to orange, then red,
before making an exchange
for winter’s diamonds.

 

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