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Spirit of Winter Coming
by
Edward Whyman

Is it then, also a beginning,
This first frost of winter;
Sparkling frozen dew, thick as snow,
Killing the chrysanthemums
That I’d fresh set upon your grave
On All Souls’ Day ?

An echelon of geese swoops low
As eerie shafts of sun
Cut through fields of mist.

Steam rises from hedgerows
Beneath which we had lain
To escape the summer heat
And I had felt the closeness of you.

--Submitted by Ed on 2013-03-15.

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