Sunglasses on,
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.

He approaches
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
her ministrations.

Conversation skids,
screeching for a stop.

Leaves, she knows,
relinquish themselves to the orbit
of seasons.
She wonders if humans
are expected to do the same.