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It's Sunday.
Hazy blue sky, cold, but sweaters make due.
A stiff breeze blows through me.
A blue jay hops along the gutter.
Snowball bushes, now long dead.
Winter is knocking on fall's door.
Cranberry sauce & Stuffing.
Coffee & Cake.
Maybe it will snow this year?
I look forward to warm sheets & cats.
Hurry home, there is still much to do.
27 days to go...
This article is a part of the series "poem".
Other articles in the series:
- Smashed Pumpkins 1 min read