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