“Winter Poem” by Kevin Thomas

First Autumn Mourns

the stillness from half a September,
the lack of an October.
It is nothing but November, November,
then gone in December.

Second Autumn Hopes

for a Winter afterlife
despite skeleton trees
and chattering teeth,
beyond a 5 p.m. night.

Third Autumn Falls

red and yellow and orange and brown,
crunched; undertow
whipping up a whirlwind
quickly, and easily breezing away.

Fourth Autumn Dies

with a late morning sunrise,
snow on the horizon,
the first frost that froze the earth,
the grass now painted with ice.

By: Kevin Thomas ~U.S. & World News Editor~