The first true cold arrives
Low to the ground, felt first
In the cooling soles of our feet
And then it grabs you by both arms and
Shakes you awake, cuts a diagonal slash
Across your chest and tells you
It’s not summer anymore.
The fervor, the grocery store crowded
The TV stations hire people we’ve never seen before
To stand on overpasses and lonely, wet intersections
And tell us that it is cold and wet
Everyone’s driving style changes
And the cat doesn’t seem to be in such a hurry
To be let out today.