First Frost
Sept 19 2008


Fall arrives one night
thinking we won’t notice.
The good people
sleeping,
street lights
illuminating empty streets,
and plump little housecats
who have slipped away,
stalking
hissing at skinny strays.

It comes with chilly breath
that sits heavy
where the road dips,
and in the hollows down by the creek.
It touches the leaves
their brilliant colours bitter-sweet
knowing how quick they pass.
And the grass,
which abruptly stops growing
with the first hint of frost.

I awaken, blinking
in the clear thin light
noticing something’s changed,
not sure what.
But after the lethargy of summer
I feel expectant, braced,
and can’t wait to get up.

From year to year, the seasons never repeat themselves;
except for fall
which is always the same.
It arrives quietly, one night
and usually ends, too soon, in daylight,
with an inch of sloppy snow
under low grey skies.