Kathy Haug

October Morning

Before dawn I rise.

I recall the conversation
of yesterday evening
tempered by dreams
in anticipation
of what today will bring.

Winter darkness is settling in.

A few weeks ago
the morning birds called busily —
now there is only a lone owl’s
hoo, hoo

and a rustle of breeze in the leaves.

A mug of coffee
warms the hands
seeps into the chill that envelopes me.

You scan the silver sky
above still-black trees
will the light bring a crisp golden sun
or sodden, driven clouds?

An autumn day makes no promises.

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