Waiting on the Edge of a Season

I am smitten

By the hovering season

When dozy drones still buzz

Their mantra

And leached leaves


Into swirls

Of their own skeletons


Sultry days are gone

Frost waits in the wings

To paint pale pictures

String diamonds

On branch and web

Each morning

A scintillating



Romance hides

In mist and fog

A quirky ghost

That steals

My frozen breath away

I wait for those days

On the edge

Of a season


© Kim M. Russell, 2016