Hard Frost

This dawn a hard frost covered the world in sprinkles and cream. Another nail in the coffin of summer and a final eviction notice to all those animals who migrate. She came on soft feet in the twilight dripping her magic. Flowers closed at her approach, fruits withered, crickets silenced their harping and trees longed for the deep, splintering slumber of February. The only animal voice heard in protest was crow's. There is more corn on the stalk he seemed to squawk. More pumpkin on the vine. Surely more time for the pleasures of sunshine. Crows are her favorite, so she'll indulge them for another week or two. Let them grow fat before the lean time. Let the geese travel at some ease. Let the ground be prepared to freeze. Dawn came hard this morning, covered in the crisp frost of eager winter. She dances on ice, whirling the airs. Her voice soft along the breezes. I am coming, she sings. I am coming.