It is silent.
Skeletons of trees.
A lonely crow shrieks.
And is gone in a black smudge,
Erased from the sky.
The air is cold melted silver,
Each breath freezes and falls,
Then shatters on the ground.
Blades of grass cocooned in frost,
Crackle when you step on them.
The last leaf falls,
A drop of orange on the white sheet.
Winter is here.
Boulder, Colorado
