Old man winter blasted into
our valley last night.
He didn’t give us a chance
to get acquainted again,
become accustomed
to his bleak personality.
He didn’t even bother to wait
until his appointed arrival date
or postpone his arrival and give us
the beloved white Christmas.

We might have welcomed him later,
though not with open arms,
but he likes to catch us by surprise,
swoop down into the woods,
shake leaves from the trees,
watch our distress with delight,
his laughter producing
bone-chilling gusts
to taunt and torment us
as we rush to get indoors,
away from his premature presence.


© by Melanie Harless.
Used with the author’s permission.