First Frost

The grass - so green
       after the early autumn rains
Each tip now glistening - silvery white
       in the early dawn.

A bunny stops to study a plant
Carefully choosing just one slender
       stalk of grass
       among the tangle of dry leaves.

Sun slowly warms tall tree branches,
       their leaves - now yellow - catching
       sunlight - into gold.

Every thing is still
       this quiet Sunday morning
As the first frost slowly
       lets go its grip - where sunlight falls.

Seasons contending on the Sunday morning lawn:
       Patches of shadow
               harboring hints of winter
               in frost-tinged waves - of grass
       While sunlight's gleams glisten
               tiny dewdrops,
               mirrors
               of still green summer.

I too sit between seasons this Sunday,
       white hair hinting of wintry times ahead,
A promise of wisdom gaining precious ground
        amidst earlier seasons, contending for my soul.

November 1, 2009