Tendrils of fog floating
flattening deep greens of pine and cedar.
Calve and thigh, skin and bone
gather for the morning ride past fields
laced with pregnant vines of pumpkin.
Sunflowers stand solemn with bowed heavy heads.
After lazy summer's heat and endless light
I steel myself for winter's icy embrace.
Now, the heat and light must come from within.
Now, we give thanks for the crackling fires of hearts and hearth,
for the bounty of our table,
for the resolve to pedal through rain,
to find beauty in resigned ghostly stalks,
to feel blessed by a wink from a fleeting fox.
Yes, now is the time to scurry,
to stack wood and store nuts
and burrow deep deep through the long night.