dark and gloomy

by Steven J. Serafiani

Brisk morning,
the trees rustle differently,
putting up a fight but getting stripped bare,
they remember the talcum powder nights,
and how lonely they were,
its summer escapades now ice capades,

the chlorophyll blanket lain heavy with frost,
whipping winds of apathy,
matted down by tread,
each blade twisting away,
its wildlife no more,

stand outside with cigarette in mouth,
huddled and shivering,
condensed water vapor counterfeit,
stalactites of ice hanging crooked above my stalagmite smile.