The Visitor

The Visitor

The North Wind visited today;
his frigid touch stole heat from bones.
He scattered leaves along the way
as he turned water into stones.

His frosty breath announced, once more,
that fallow times now rule the lands.
The barren fields and forests bore
the signature of his cold hands.

I watched him repaint Autumn’s scenes
in shades of gray and blue and white.
Gone are the reds and golds and greens
now hidden ‘neath his wintry blight.

The days grow short, the nights grow long
in rhythm with the North Wind’s song.

An entry for "Verdant Poetry Contest" 
Prompt: Snowflakes, Extremes of Weather, Winter Wildlife, A Sense of Wonder
Line Limit: Minimum 12; Maximum 40
Line Count: 14
Form: Quatrains ~ A Quatrain is a poem consisting of four lines of verse with a specific rhyming scheme. I chose “abab” with a closing couplet in tetrameter.