© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. "Grey November" by Bruce Crane, courtesy The Athenaeum.
Late November 2016
Today's wind unpredictable.
In its howl a prescient bitterness.
Buds, promises for the future,
enter a state of dormancy.
Squirrels have buried and birds
have pooped possibility.
Old color now underfoot, new
color exists only in potentiality.
The anticipated mantle of
white will come. With weight.
Nothing is certain, but this: dormant
is not dead and acorns will wait.