silvered flakes drift

and glitter in the light

of a full harvest moon--

 

winter's come early this year...

 

talons screech on

a white-dusted roof

and sound a tinny echo below

 

and a startled still inhabitant

whisks a quick breath from the darkness

 

then breathes a thankful sigh

to the unseen creature

for a merciful deathshot

 

that's come swift like deliverance

from a fall season's fruitless wrestling

 

for the days are still too long

and night offers no peace

in its lengthening silence.