Not Quite Hoarfrost

mangled, dry, a crisp crunch underfoot

the last season’s mowing more than a month past

all that remains until the cover of not-yet-come snowfall

is to pick up after puppy, his leavings throughout the yard

fairway #4 spreads out beyond the wrought-iron fence

the trees and the pond, trending of late with Canada geese

and a different manner of leavings…

all of it this morning blanketed in a mist of hardened nightfall

beautiful in its uniformity, somber under the weight

of what lies before us


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