I look to the hills
where silver frost replaces
fall’s coppers and golds.

The deck was icy this morning when I went out to fill the birdfeeder. Bluejays have been making short work of the sunflower seeds and I can’t help but feel bad for the sparrows and chickadees and cardinals who are thus done out of a meal. Our Mexican student marveled at the snow that sifted out of a gray sky today, and my student from British Columbia had to be convinced that he needed to invest in a really warm coat for the next four winters or he would not survive our Quebec climate. I also had to reassure him that he would be no less cool for wearing boots, hat, scarf and mitts, but would be a great deal less cold. He hasn’t got a clue.

In writing group tonight we composed tankas and haikus in celebration of the season. I include herewith one of each respectively:

Corn fields in the wind:
sere, yellow, tassles withered;
winter comes anon
and the bounty of their stalks
fattens cattle in warm stalls.

Heavy coats and boots,
scarves, mitts, tuques and other wraps
are hot items now.

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