WINTER'S PROMISE
OR
A WHIFF OF AUTUMN
IN A SUMMER WIND
As I sat and read,
It came to me,
In the breeze --
August and warm --
Filtering through,
The open window. . .From the book,
Now forgotten,
Lying upon my lap,
Raising my eyes,
And turning my gaze,
Outward to sunshine,
I sought reassurance. . .Yet, even still,
The icy fingers
Of a shiver,
Ran through me --
Clutching at my soul. . .Denying but, knowing,
With certainty,
I wept. . .


Comments: 13
Ah, yes! I remember, Pat, you're in the Southern Hemisphere in New Zealand... And your water all drains counter-clockwise, too! ;o)