Author’s Note: My Muse showed up again this morning… chilly for mid November… The puppies had me up and out early, but “too cold” to hear any of the birds as my field guide so informed me…

– Arrias

A thick hoar frost, A cold, hard ground,
A thin, bright crescent moon,
Frozen grass crunches under foot,
Too cold to hear the loon.

Winter has come to the Swamp,
The wood is bare and gray,
An early winter and a long one?
Spring seems far away.

But the squirrels are busy,
As are the dogs, searching for new smells,
In the east first hint of dawn,
A dash of pink and gold pastels.

But too cold, hurry inside,
From the kitchen a cheery light,
Feed the dogs, brew some tea,
Usher out the night.

The sun will rise, day will come,
Melt this frost away,
As I settle in to write,
In the Swamp on a winter day.

Copyright 2022 Arrias
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