A Mild Cold Front

By  Lawrence Hall

Word Count: 92

Rating: G

Summary: The poet muses on the weather.

Image Credit: IStock

An errant frog’s the only voice to sing

The day to sleep in this warm, blustery dusk.

The whippoorwill of yesternight is still;

The deep-voiced owl is silent too.  The wind

And damp have silenced even the twilight dogs

(Do dogs make paw to the doghousey wood?)

The grasses sigh, the bare oak branches hum,

The long-dead autumn leaves blow this way, that;

The clouds – they darken, lower, hover, grim

Upon the land, where winter ought to rest.


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