We cleaned gutters yesterday —
pulled pine and cypress needles
from the long trays in anticipation
of a coming north-wind storm.
It was 90 degrees, but this morning
is projected to bring the first drops
of ice and rain, following with inches
of snow during the next few days.
Such fast change. I feel my age,
the inability to deal with extremes,
and I pray for more even times,
when autumn gentles over us
for extended weeks, slowly lowering
the temperatures before moving aside
and letting the heavy cloak of winter
settle us into a willing slumber.
—C.L. Fisher, October 2020
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Poetic Meanderings 