Brisk breezes blowing, blue skies glowing.
Leaves going blonde, no ducks on the pond.
Noses are numb, fingers are dumb.
Wrap yourself tighter and imagine a fire.
Blow smoke jets from invisible cigarettes.
Fallen leaves are extra crunchy with frost.
Warm soup waits on the wood stove at home.
Outside voices and inside jokes, we carry our own kind of weather.