the first frost.

A clear sky at sunrise
     The first frost appears in autumns wake.
The air is visible before my face
As feet tremble on the faint silver trails
Splayed across pathways
Vehicles gleam as they roar past
Through misshapen cut-outs
Shoulders shiver
Wrought with regret
At their partings from warmer homes
The wind is sharp, fleeting at my skin
Palms burning, cheeks smarting
One can only turn away
From the force of winter’s hand
Lights, of varying size and colour
Charm the familiar sights of
A closely huddled street
Too early, some might say
For the start of the month
But still, a luminous inkling
For more clear mornings to come
Clustered patches of bare tree
And rusted grass, each blade shudders
As the sky grows brighter
Ever cloudless
It’s subtle presence, louder
As the first frost makes itself
Known to us
The pressing cold reigns true again
On my way to another day
Winter has begun.