A Rampant Season

Winter comes swiftly on the coat-tails of fall.
The red and brown leaves will be smothered,
As white snow plummets relentlessly from the sky.


Waterfalls will hang, frozen,
The ever-rushing water transmuted to ice.
And the splashing ceased.


Your breath will crystallize.
The ice, palpable, lacing the cloud that departs
From your blue, cracked-lips.


Creatures will succumb to the gnawing frost.
This revelation dawning,
As you watch a three-legged fox,
Solemnly feeding in your backyard.


Your tears will freeze as stolid bubbles upon your iris,
As you cry for the creature succumbed,
To a season run rampant.