Cursing the Inevitable

Fog, autumnal calling card, has blanketed
The river valley.  I grieve as I stand outside.
My feet are going numb, a penalty I pay
For being stubborn, wearing shorts
And sandals well before the sun can
Bring the air back up to summer warmth.
I'm not a fan of coats and sweaters,
Have no use for fallen leaves or cocoa,
Or the holidays which strain to keep up
Shallow spirits, first with candy, next with
Turkey, finally with God himself.  I dread
The months of staring wanly at my idle
Motorcycles and my covered swimming
Pool.  A life reduced to lengthy stretches
Of confinement, broken only by trips
Out to shovel snow, is not for me.  That's
Why I grieve, and do my best to wish
Away the fog.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 26 times
Written on 2022-09-12 at 14:23

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arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
That must provoke a seasonal horror. Had a friend who kept Summer perpetual indoors. It was always a surreal visit to theirs during the colder months.