First Snow

The smell of apples and leaves is gone

replaced by the scent of metallic water

and manure from the north country.

All autumn the warmth has been sipped

the chilled fingers and neck

shadows bouncing across my window

cold vegetables in the yard now hidden

the sun comes and sips the cold back

drip, drip, the days are dancing

in playful cycles

like seasons

like breath

like life and death.