This season is taking its time, 

doing what it ought to, acting 

like it should. It’s not rushing 

as it often does.

Snow will soon enough drift, so 

why the hurry, why the fuss?

I am taking it day by day. 

Dried leaves gather like summer 

memories. Winter is still only an 

early morning hint… for now.

© 2026 j.g. lewis