The wind chatters
and whips the frigid
air,
snatching warmth
from crimson foxes
seeking refuge
against the harsh,
complaining chill.
They reclaim their
burrows,
hiding out
from the frost.
Winter robs
green essentials,
pulling comfort
from under
rust-red noses
buried beneath bushy
tails-
until spring,
when blossoms burst,
scenting soggy sunlight,
reviving lost colors
from the year before.
Then,
after a brief summer
of rain and grass,
and a splinter of fall,
the world
turns bleached again-
crisp, bitter gales,
the breath of Mother
Nature,
wafting flurries of
bright snow
onto the frozen grey
ground.
October 2016
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