The air is close,
it looks like snow --
too soon, too soon,
the Season isn't
   ready yet?
The last leaf
has not fallen.
The last rose
has not blown away.
'Too soon, too soon',
the little bird cries,
as the air casts blue
and twilight hints of snow.
When was winter
so far away?
Do we remember
those lazy days?
And now, the sky
threatens
with a brittle beauty...

If  I wake to snow,
I will not be surprised,
I'll just sigh
and say, 'too soon.'