The Chill

The afternoon chill seeps through my aging bones,
It is but four pm, I know, but now
The day grows colder. I shiver, alone,
On the driveway. Winter is early somehow.

A sliver of sun emerges as a parting gesture,
Highlighting the snow atop kunanyi,
Casting shadows across nearby pasture,
Instilling a sense of wonder in me.

The temperature scarcely rises to ten,
Dark clouds creep over-head, closing out the day.
Time to venture inside the house again,
Into the warmth, a cosy place to stay.

Winter is colder and early this year.
Energy bills will be higher, I fear!

Bill Edmunds
June 2022