she can handle winter's
grip on the day -- an afternoon
where breath hovers like fog.
Cellphone sings like a cricket,
but she presses
Her ass is frozen to the stone bench.
with the crush of innocuous snow
underneath muddy boots.
At unspoken words, she startles,
but does not look.
X-Ray eyes see through sunglass emotions.
She digs, sneaking
shoes underneath the snow.
Perfection of an autumn past
crackles upwards at
screeching for a stop.
Leaves, she knows,
relinquish themselves to the orbit
She wonders if humans
are expected to do the same.