The death of a flower
The falling of leaves
The scurrying about
Of squirrels
The covering up
Of my arms
With sleeves.

Warm temperatures
Diminish
A gradule decline
Preparation
Being made
For what's coming
For none of us
Is experientially
Blind.

Furnaces running
Windows
Now closed
Slippers now worn
Bare feet
Seldom exposed.

Standing at the...