Walking Upon A Winters Dawn

decaying leaves
cling like strident parasites
on to barren boughs
a blanket of a forgotten summer
now lies rotting in a watery grave
potholes and puddles
it’s final resting place

the rising dawn grants me solace
and the promise of renewal
as i thread softly upon
slippery roads
with a fine coating
of frosty lace

the silence is pure
amid creaking crystallised trees
with their bare branches
exposing the anarchy of nature’s design

as the last of the stars begin to fade
and the sun is upon the day
i breathe deep the bitter air
and feel it’s painful pleasure upon my lungs
i feel like sighing
for i have to turn back and face
what we call the world