The Edge of Winter

Marianne Szlyk

Rain drips through the last leaves
and skips across the slate roof tiles.

Bittersweet burns red, orange, and yellow,
the embers of the year.

Beads of melted ice glitter
on branches of a black locust tree.

Color drains from sky and branches.
They become breath and shadow.

Night falls early.  By midnight,
fog will blanket the yard like snow.

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