open window late november

the season declines but here and there a spray
of coloured leaves clings weakly to the past
there's no resentment that in a short day
they'll lose the fight and fall to ground at last
the softness of the breeze is a too thin disguise
for what's to come the clarity of the light
reminds us that already the earliest spies
of winter have given news of the long fight
that we'll have with the cold and dark and bleak
when sunshine though relieving will not heat
we'll grit our teeth and when we open them to speak
we'll be brief lest they chatter when they meet
but now it's warm and given that the choice
is that or cold provisionally we rejoice