Autumn Frost

Dogs wait patiently at the door. 
Outside the frozen leaves.
Over the twilight roof, 
moon like white muslin.
Orion rises in the southern sky. 

My father said, “We’re waiting for winter now.” 
His death was another season, long.
That evening the cold, woodsmoke waiting.

Silence now except a faint whispering.
Then great flakes of wet snow.
I turn to the sky; I receive the blessing.
​Dogs wait patiently at the door.

Published in The Raven Review, April 13, 2020
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