Sonnet No. 105

[November 8^th, 2013 – 7:54 am]

Bundled in grayness, clouds become your coat –

You step out into the autumn's day and

Cast eyes skyward; tug a scarf 'round your throat –

For here conserved warmth takes the season's stand.

I love to see you prepped, just like a child,

Going out for a day of harvest work,

With clothes rigid, but with expression mild,

For apple-picking time we must not shirk.

And later, with our fruit and our labor,

Sweet cinnamon will lace our pies and sauce

To do our smiles and flatware the honor

Of feeding the other and scooping his gloss.