Solstice

The trees at last have given up their leaves,
Swapping them for shrouds of gossamer mits;
That entangle their branches and reach their
mercurial fingers to the skies.

Summer's lush grasses have been put to rest,
beneath crystallized blankets of ice.
And the once brilliant Autumn sunsets give way
To the somber hush of gray.

Sheila MacGregor 2011