Rime and Reason

The yawning sun is a lazy one, as our dancing earth reclines

It wakens long after me, and I take spiced coffee in man-made light

As day slowly winks to life, its breath ignites the shoulders,

of the titans that surround me.

As I step onto the lawn and it crunches under foot,

I marvel at the lack of leaves, pale blades point frozen to the sky

I blink away the wonder as I look up to the growing line

Of crimson cutting through the trees.

The mountains are wreathed in cloaks of white

Like hunters working through the gloom

That retire in the morning light

And shed their cloaks before the noon.

I sigh aloud at this report, when did the mountains dress for cold?

It seems like only yesterday, they wore garments of green and gold.