Adrift

First snow this year was premature
It stayed but hours and then went its way
And today we are gifted with some that stays
The cold more promising, more resilient.
But I am not fond of this time of year
The wheel of the seasons coming to its end
The grayness of days washing into their brevity
And blankets of snow to be scooped out of the way.
Rather the coolness of autumn awake with color
A perpetual rainbow before the leaves lay dead
But I defer to the Creator who bore such wisdom
As to weave the months and the weather just so.
Were each day the same we would entangled be,
Adrift in boredom with nothing to scratch on the page.