In your heavy long coat, you meet the cold morn,
collar turned up. Thick gloves are worn.
There's frost on the ground and a freeze in the air,
the temperature, low, is almost too much to bear.
Lo, speaking of bare, the tree branches look stark,
nude, brown, twisted limbs, daylight through dark.
Clouds in the sky augur nature's first snow,
the day, dark and gloomy wherever you go.
Here, on November's transitional day,
the world, blue and green, has turned white and gray.
Your car offers no real means of escape,
as its windshield's iced, in need of your scrape.
Autumn is closing, winter impends.
Fall's season of beauty and comfort, now ends.
You shudder with thoughts of what lies ahead:
snow, slush, sleet, frost. The whole world seems dead.
Your heart full of dread, you clutch your cold keys.
This commute is your last before winter's long freeze.
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