Between Seasons
Overnight, autumn evaporates.
We shiver, wake to white breath,
geraniums encrusted with sparkling frost.
Both fireplaces work overtime.
Our heat-seeking dogs curl together
on braided hearth rug.
In the garden, narcissus wake,
thrust green bayonets
toward morning’s wan sun.
Squirrels entomb acorn treasures
among potted azaleas.
Wind shuffles scarlet elm leaves.
Overhead, winter sky curdles.
Any minute we’ll see silver lightning,
hear grumbling thunder, hold out a hand,
feel November’s tentative rainfall.
Jennifer Lagier has published nineteen books, in a variety of anthologies and literary magazines, edits the Monterey Poetry Review, helps coordinate Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings. Recent books: Meditations on Seascapes and Cypress (Blue Light Press) and COVID Dissonance (CyberWit), Camille Chronicles (FutureCycle Press). Website: jlagier.net, Facebook: www.facebook.com/JenniferLagier/
Overnight, autumn evaporates.
We shiver, wake to white breath,
geraniums encrusted with sparkling frost.
Both fireplaces work overtime.
Our heat-seeking dogs curl together
on braided hearth rug.
In the garden, narcissus wake,
thrust green bayonets
toward morning’s wan sun.
Squirrels entomb acorn treasures
among potted azaleas.
Wind shuffles scarlet elm leaves.
Overhead, winter sky curdles.
Any minute we’ll see silver lightning,
hear grumbling thunder, hold out a hand,
feel November’s tentative rainfall.
Jennifer Lagier has published nineteen books, in a variety of anthologies and literary magazines, edits the Monterey Poetry Review, helps coordinate Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings. Recent books: Meditations on Seascapes and Cypress (Blue Light Press) and COVID Dissonance (CyberWit), Camille Chronicles (FutureCycle Press). Website: jlagier.net, Facebook: www.facebook.com/JenniferLagier/
